godsend
by alice hattercandy
Summary: Don't get caught. Don't fall in love. —AU
1. prelude

She is a woman alone.

Alone but not lonely, she tells herself, convinces herself.

The dull sound of _tick_ _tock_ _tick_ _tock_ of an old, round wall clock fills the silence, shatters the silence. The clock is her older brother's. It is not much, and it is old, and some of the numbers have faded. Most of the time, it does not work as she often forgets to change the batteries. She moves residencies a lot, but she never forgets to bring the clock with her. Ridiculous, but she could not bear the thought of discarding it. Maybe because it is the only possession she can bring with her, the only familiar thing in a constantly changing world.

:

She lives in a small, square apartment — no. 404. The walls are white, and there is a large window with an unchanging view. The room is barely furnished; she has a small TV set, old chintz armchair, her brother's wall clock and a low table. Against a wall is a full bookshelf and beside it is a replica of a Picasso poster she bought from a bookstore where Ryo, a high school friend of hers, works part-time.

Every now and then, a black cat with white paws comes over. And every now and then, she'll hear a distant sound of a passing train and, strangely, this comforts her.

:

She is a scholar, a third year college student in Imperial University aspiring to be a teacher.

Oh, she wants to teach, preferably, children; she wishes to teach ABC and primary colors, about the world, nature and people. One day, after a long teaching career, she would settle down and work as a baker in her hometown Karakura. She also believes a degree is something her brother would–

:

("make me proud, orihime."

a ghost whispers while she sleeps,

while she weeps.)

:

The cellphone rings.

Reading an old book from the library and curled in her cheap, large chintz chair, she glances at it from the corner of her eye.

Nobody knows she has a cellphone; her friends often tease her about it. They say: she is a modern woman living in a modern world who could not handle a modern cellphone very well. Cellphones, they are confusing, she thinks.

The cellphone continues to ring. Twice, thrice, four times.

Still, she does not touch it, watching it vibrate and ring. It is an odd phone. It is black, outdated, and only has one contact. It cannot be used to call; it only receives calls.

Five, six, seven times, it rings.

After the ninth ring, she reaches for it and slides the lid up.

:

"Have you decided?"

The voice is androgynous and synthetic.

She stands up from her chair and faces a whole body mirror. Her pale face stares back at her. Honey-colored wide eyes, small nose, full red lips. Her red hair is too-long and too-thick, falling around her face, over her back, and down to her hips like a red waterfall. It makes her face look washed-out.

"This is your only chance."

She grips the phone tighter in her little fist.

"Accomplish this," the voice pauses, "and I will tell you where you can find _him._"

Caramel eyes become wider, brighter.

"You wish to find your brother, I trust?"

Her lips tremble as her heart skips.

"I will tell you where you can find him."

She glances at the wall clock. It is ten forty nine. Fifty, fifty one, fifty two, fifty three, fifty four. She looks back at her reflection, watching her face, trying to control her emotions, trying to stem the blossoming hope and terror.

But hope overpowers terror and she bathes in it like a parched soul.

:

In her mind's eye, she sees her brother, smiling at her with kindness. She remembers his gentle voice, talking to her: _be kind, Orihime, be kind because each and every person is fighting a hard battle._

She remembers their Sunday walks when she was seven years old; _Orihime, real strength is in the soul and mind, not in forearms and fists._ Then, one Sunday, it was spring, he gave her Enraku.

(i'm so proud of you, orihime

be happy, orihime.

don't give up, orihime

it's okay to cry, orihime, it doesn't

mean you're weak)

A chance. Information. Her brother.

_I will find you, nii-chan._

And this is love, this is where he ends and she begins, and this love, this is why she will do it. She is afraid and knows this is wrong, but this is love, a love that can withstand anything, anything in this whole world.

:

"Who is it?" she asks softly.

:

"Turn on your television."

She crosses the small room, grabs the remote control and presses a button.

"Channel 14."

She changes channels. A face greets her vision.

"_That_ is your target."

Her eyes widen. "B-But this is…"

"I know who he is."

She stares at the face of her target with wide-eyed trepidation.

"Off with his head."

:

_Off with his head._

_Off with his head._

_OFF WITH HIS HEAD!_

:

There are a million thoughts tangling and twisting inside her head. But one thought separates from the others.

Her target is the Crown Prince of Dainipponteikoku.

Kurosaki Ichigo.


	2. godsend

**disclaimer. **BLEACH © KUBO; for other materials here in, please refer to the footnotes **  
>rating. <strong>M **  
>note.<strong> a lot of thanks and hugs to Cindy + Rairakku-chama who checked 11 chapters for atrocious mistakes! :D thanks a lot for reading! if you have free time, tell me what you think, yeah? ;]

**full summary.** Inoue Sora disappeared 2 years ago. His younger sister, Orihime, receives an offer she cannot – and will not – refuse: _I have information. I know where your brother is. _There are two important things she has to remember: Don't get caught. Don't fall in love.

* * *

><p>A fog of panic and disbelief dimmed her vision and dulled her senses.<p>

_It's impossible! _she thought while watching the news. She listened and responded half-heartedly and distractedly as the caller continued their instructions.

"Shocking news! The Crown Prince of Dainipponteikoku is–"

Still clutching the remote control in her small hand, she flipped through different channels. The news broadcasts were all the same.

"The identity is a closely guarded secret! We'll wait for more developments!"

"A very sudden development, I say."

"The Imperial Household Agency demands to respect the privacy of the Imperial Family."

"The ten-member Imperial Household Council responsible for the selection will soon give a statement—"

"Fifteen candidates, one of which, as widely speculated, is Kuchiki Rukia—"

"Good luck."

She jerked back to reality, dropping the remote control on a nearby kotatsu. "W-Wait! I…"

"I want this to be done with great care. And I expect you to accomplish this with a… bang." Even though the voice was synthetic, the last word seemed to drip with amusement.

"But he— He is _the _Crown Prince! And…"

"Are you scared?"

She swallowed, balling her free hand into a fist. The current news segment featured a recording of an interview. The Crown Prince was speaking about the Dainipponteikoku's decade-old alliance with Brandenburg-Preußen which he visited one week prior. She watched his distant, piercing amber eyes– her heart pounded when those eyes stared right at the camera – _right at _her.

Flustered, she looked away quickly, turning around to face the mirror again.

"This," she breathed, frantic, "this is impossible!"

"There is no such thing as 'impossible' for a desperate person like you." She flinched at the stinging truth in those words. "I believe in you. Have faith."

The sound of a train passing distracted her. The caller spoke again after the train passed.

"I have made some very important arrangements for you. I have helped you with the best of my abilities. Use your opportunities well."

Orihime's panic skyrocketed.

"Wait—"

There was a significant pause.

"Good luck."

:

"I'm getting married."

Tatsuki coughed and spluttered, slamming her cup of coffee back to the table. "W-What?!" she demanded, wiping her chin with the back of her hand.

Orihime giggled a little at her best friend's mini-fit and said, "I'm getting married."

Tatsuki gaped, looking lost. "You've got to be kidding me. I-Impossible… You don't have a boyfriend! Wait…" She narrowed her eyes, leaning forward. "Do you have a _secret _boyfriend?! Who is this fiancé?"

She only smiled. She wished she could tell Tatsuki. Her best friend deserved the truth, but the truth might get her killed.

There was a commotion outside Denny's. The doors slammed open, shocking diners, and people flowed in. Men in black suits, people with cameras, people with recorders, people with mics. It was a warm spring morning, but as this new flood of people came, the familiar, gentle silence was replaced with noises. Even worse, this flood seemed to center around her and Tatsuki's table. Her friend was stunned into silence.

Microphones were jabbed in her face, asking for a word, a confirmation. Cameras flashed, and reporters demanded answers. Orihime remained quiet, focusing her gaze on Tatsuki who stared back inquiringly: _what's happening? What's this?_

The noise was unbearable, the flashes blinding. The men in black suits created a wall around her, pushing against the barrage of people, attempting to protect her from the media frenzy.

She got to her feet, and the uproar increased; more blinding flashes, louder voices, and shoving and pushing.

"Orihime?"

Despite the noise, she heard Tatsuki.

She offered a smile. "Tatsuki-chan."

One truth, just one. She hoped it was enough.

:

"I'm going to marry Kurosaki Ichigo."

:

**interlude:  
><strong>Tatsuki

_This_, I think, is perhaps the strangest story Orihime has ever told me. She has babbled before on and on about odd things – robots, aliens, space invaders, boxing stars, food – but _this_ takes the cake. Despite Orihime's peculiar outlook in life, she is intelligent, optimistic and funny, and does not exaggerate things on purpose. Her odd imaginings have limits.

"I'm sorry, Tatsuki-chan."

I blink, jolting out of my trance.

"We have thirty minutes," one of the men declares.

"Wait!" I exclaim. "How did you–" She never told me about meeting _the _Crown Prince. She never even talked about him. Ever.

"Let's go."

"I'll see you soon, Tatsuki-chan. I promise."

I try to stand. "But –"

"I'll be fine." She looks at me and smiles, and I still. I know Orihime like the back of my hand, and I have memorized her different Orihime faces. I often told her face is too open and it's so easy to read her, but _that _look, _that _smile – for the first time since I've met her, I failed to read them. I can't read _her_.

And these findings make me nervous. Terrified, even. What's going on? What is she hiding? I struggle for words, for my composure. And again, for the first time, I can't find strength in me to demand answers.

Loud voices, clicking of cameras, flashes, stomping of feet– they are too much. I feel a headache coming on, my temper flaring, urging me to lash out. From my seat, unable to do anything, I watch as the men guide her out of the diner. Outside, they carefully push her inside a black, expensive-looking car. There is a great exodus of noise and reporters, and Denny's becomes Denny's again.

A waitress approaches me to refill my cup. "Your friend is the _one _they've been talking about in the news for weeks?"

"Huh?" I don't watch news. I am busy with more important things like college, Orihime and karate tournaments.

"The person who is engaged to the Crown Prince," the waitress elaborates. There is another headache, a worst headache.

"Unbelievable," I mumble.

"I know, hon."

.

.

.

**god  
>send<strong>

.

.

.

When she was very young, she dreamed of a house made of Gundanium alloy. She'd have two balconies where she could watch the sun rise and set over the town. She'll grow pumpkins, carrots, leeks and onions at the backyard, and will care for a dog that barks in Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. She remembered doing an art project about it. Her teacher scolded her: this is not a normal girl's dream, she said.

Thus, Orihime was forced to re-draw her dream. This time, it involved a prince in purple leggings and puffed-out sleeves, riding a white horse and brandishing a black sword. She got a high grade for that drawing. She can draw well, you see, very, very well.

As she waited inside a car, she thought of that art project.

:

"The Imperial Household Council conducted a search for the suitable partner for the Crown Prince. There are fifteen candidates, fourteen of which are members of former noble families. Despite your plain family background, you have suitable credentials. You're a student of a prestigious university and you have outstanding grades. You're healthy. You're beautiful. You have excellent genes."

Her eyes widened. _Genes?_

"I-Is it necessary to… marry him?"

"Do not forget: this is the Crown Prince. He is not an easy person to target. His security detail is impossible to breach. Marrying him is the only way for you to get close and strike with ease."

"But I'm a commoner."

"An _orphan girl _and a Crown Prince, a good fairy tale story, don't you think?"

_"A very sudden development, I say."_

_"The Imperial Household Agency demands to respect the privacy of the Imperial Family."_

"You are not of royal blood and you have no family. Therefore, they believe you will be a good puppet. In addition, this is a good opportunity for the Imperial Family to gain the favor of the nation. You will act as a bridge between the commoners and royals."

The Crown Prince appeared on the television screen; Orihime looked away.

"This," she breathed, frantic, "this is impossible!"

"There is no such thing as 'impossible' for a desperate person like you. I believe in you. Have faith."

There was a distant sound of a train passing. The caller spoke again after the train had passed.

"I have made some very important arrangements for you. I have helped you with the best of my abilities. Use your opportunities well."

"Wait—"

There was a significant pause.

"Good luck."

:

Those were the last two words she had heard from her employer.

:

It was Thursday, two weeks prior to the announcement of Crown Prince's engagement, when she received a parcel.

Confused, Orihime turned it over; there was no return address and name of the sender. Distracted, she thanked the delivery personnel and locked the door. Seated at her low table, she opened it and, perplexed, found a black cellular phone. Two minutes later, to her surprise, it rang.

She let it ring for four times before answering it.

"Hello?"

"I have information. I know where you can find your brother."

:

Those were the first two sentences she received from her employer, a man she would later call "the boss".

:

The massive steel gates slid open, and a long, broad pavement lined with maples, ginkgos and cherry blossoms stretched out before the black Mercedes-Benz limousine, followed by four Alfa Romeo 159 sedans. The vehicles moved forward, passing by the trees, crushing petals and leaves under their tires. Farther ahead was a quadrilateral which enclosed two large courtyards. The palace, the oldest among the buildings in the compound, loomed overhead, a rectangular, steel-framed three-story building with long protruding eaves and large, gabled roof and columns.

The cars entered the first courtyard, and went on to enter the second, larger forecourt, which was bordered with lawns. Orihime had seen dozens of photos of the palace complex, but none of them had captured the actual magnificence of the imperial palace.

The convoy started to slow down as it approached the south entrance of the reception hall, prompting Orihime to inhale deeply to calm herself, but her heart remained racing.

_I'm scared._

She gripped her skirt tightly, the fabric bunching inside her small fists.

There was no room for hesitation – her brother's life was at stake here – but she could no longer hear herself think because of the loud thrumming of her heart.

Her fingers curled tighter until her knuckles were white.

The plan was simple: get close, closer, and strike.

Executing the plan, however, was a different case altogether.

Judging from his brief appearances, briefer speeches and scowling visage, the Crown Prince seemed to be a difficult man to please. He seldom showed his face in public, opting to live his life as privately as possible. It was difficult, though; he was constantly hounded by the press, stolen pictures of him frequently gracing the front page of newspapers and, unfortunately, tabloids.

Finally, the car stopped.

Orihime felt her heart stop for a second, before racing so much that she felt a little lightheaded. But this was not the time to faint. She had a target to meet. She placed a hand on her chest and gripped the front of her blouse. Closing her eyes, she whispered a simple word, a prayer.

_Nii-chan…_

The door beside her swung outward.

She forced her eyes to open. Taking a deep breath, she turned to the door. _This is it_. She will watch and she will wait. And when the perfect opportunity presented itself to her…

Slowly, Orihime got out of the car. With a shaky smile, she thanked the guard who opened the door for her, and looked up to the opened doors of the lobby.

Seeing the covered entranceway up close, she felt the weight of reality crashing down on her. From now on, she had to fake her smiles, her expressions. Hide her intentions with a polite smile, disguise her carefully laid out plans with a courteous laugh. Pretend, lie, and act. Just thinking about it all made her feel sick and weak and disgusted and many other things she could not identify.

She's not a malicious child; she respected all forms of life, and above all, a human life. But what she will do, it was something she _had to do_.

_I will find you, Nii-chan._

:

She hoped that he would understand the choice she had made and the path she had taken, that doing nothing to save him had not been a matter of choice. Most of all, she hoped she will be able to forgive herself.

:

If the outer walls and the courtyards were splendid, no proper words could describe how impressive the interiors were. The south entrance hall was made of black granite, pine wood and marble. It was three-storey high where a staircase ran up to the mezzanine level. Two chandeliers made from crystal glass illuminated the room with light-purple beams.

She was staring at the reflections of chandeliers and lights on the floor with great concentration that she failed to realize that a figure was watching her from the top of the staircase. This figure descended one step, creating a sound that shattered the heavy silence like a firecracker.

Orihime stood very still and spun towards the stairs. A tall man with orange-red hair stood on top of the staircase.

As she watched the man move down the stairs, her heartbeat began to speed up so fast it hurt to breathe. She felt disjointed, as though her arms and legs were not in their proper places. As he moved closer, Orihime felt her knees weaken.

But she was a woman with a mission.

_Off with his head!_

She tore her eyes from him and bowed.

"G-Good afternoon," she said softly, her voice husky in anxiety. Orihime rose to her full height and looked up to him, offering a small, bashful smile. "I-I'm Inoue Orihime, sir."

As expected, Kurosaki Ichigo did not smile back as he gazed down at her. His presence was suffocating. He appeared taller, his shoulders broader in person; she was certain she barely came up to his shoulder. His spiky hair seemed to blaze with its striking luster. Orihime had always thought he had intense eyes, but she did not expect that they were _that _intense. Gold flecks accentuated the rich brown color, making his eyes almost glow.

The Crown Prince seemed unmoved as he regarded her. Regal, aloof. Orihime dropped her gaze to the floor, clutching at her skirt to hide her trembling fingers. His stare made her feel small, conscious of her simple background. Even worse, she felt like he was picking her apart, layer by layer, probing, looking for her secrets. This feeling of being stared at by him, it was bone-deep. Frightening.

Now, as she stood in front of him, Orihime felt her fright and uncertainties double. They clawed deep into her insides, gripping her heart. Kurosaki Ichigo was a man of strength; certainly, he was not the type of man who'd be easily charmed by a pretty face.

A new set of footsteps approached them.

"Right on time," a voice said, amusement lacing their tone. Orihime started and turned towards from where the voice came.

A tall, thin man with bucket hat over his blond hair was grinning in her direction. He wore a dark, shapeless straight-sleeved coat and green shirt and pants underneath. He carried a fan in one hand, while the other was waving at her. Orihime gave a small smile and dipped her head in a curtsy.

"Ara, ara, I'm just a lowly servant. No need to bow, Miss Crown Princess," he teased with a chuckle, hiding his face behind a fan. "Urahara Kisuke, madam, your ladyship. Welcome to _Choshun-iro_, the Imperial Palace."

"Hello."

"Oh, I like her. How polite, her highness," he said to Ichigo.

"Urahara."

Orihime felt a tingle run down her spine at the sound of Ichigo's voice.

"Of course, Mr. Crown Prince. Now then, shall we go?" Urahara asked, turning to Orihime.

"Go where?" she asked, puzzled. Urahara grinned.

"To prepare you for your wedding."

"Eh? W-Wedding? But—"

Kindly, he said to her, "Yes, your wedding. Let's hurry up, shall we? I'll escort you there." She must have made a facial expression that amused Urahara greatly for he laughed and said, "_Today _is your wedding, Your Highness."

* * *

><p><strong>notes:<strong>

(1) _Goong_, Honey trap trope, _Angels & Demons_ (mystery phone call part) from all of which the premise of this fic were derived

(2) _Imperial Household Agency _and _Imperial Household Council _are real agencies. This is a fictional representation and WILL be inaccurate

(3) _Dainipponteikoku _–Greater Japanese Empire; (4) _Brandenburg-Preußen_ – Brandenburg-Prussia

(5) _Choshun-iro_ - long-spring-color


	3. principessa

**godsend** **  
><strong>principessa **  
><strong>

:

_Today!_

The lightheaded feeling was back, stronger than before. Flustered, Orihime put a hand on her chest and stepped back, feeling faint. She knew she was to marry him, but… isn't this too soon? Things were progressing fast.

A hand touched her shoulder, then. Orihime jerked in surprise, looking up. She flinched under the steady, burning amber gaze, her heart racing like a bullet train.

He was standing close to her.

This is not good, she thought, wide-eyed as she stared back in shock. _This is not good._

She was not supposed to react like _this_. She was not supposed to _feel _like this – flushed, heart throbbing with nervousness and unnamed emotion at their close proximity.

She did not know how long she stood there, gazing up at Ichigo. She can feel her heartbeat in her ears.

"Shall we go? We have one hour to prepare."

They both looked away from each other; Orihime was blushing while Ichigo remained detached. The hand on her shoulder left. Urahara gestured to Orihime to follow him. Nervous, she flashed a small smile at Ichigo before hurrying, almost tripping in her haste, after Urahara.

She tried very hard not to look behind her.

:

After an hour, Orihime could not recognize the woman standing in the full-length mirror in front of her. The gown was white, strapless and floor-length. It clung to her upper body, showing off her curves and back, causing her to feel extremely self-conscious. The neckline was heart-shaped, accentuating her ample bosom. It had a close fitted waistline which tapered into a full, diaphanous skirt. Her hair was put up into a delicate chignon, adorned with a wreath of white and blue tiny flowers. The only jewelry she wore was a long, thin necklace which she never took off. A pair of blue hairclips hanged off from the thin chain.

"You look beautiful," a tall, grinning woman said from behind her. Orihime glanced at her over her shoulder. The woman had introduced herself earlier as Shihouin Yoruichi. "We don't have enough time for a traditional wedding. The Crown Prince is in such a hurry to marry," Yoruichi added with a smirk while Orihime's blush deepened under her thin make up.

"Take this." She thrust a bouquet of red roses tied together by a thick white ribbon in her hands. Then, she reached forward. "Here, let me help with your veil. There, a really pretty bride you are."

"Thank you," said Orihime softly.

A door swung inward, and in strode a black-haired man. "Five minutes before the ceremony starts!" Yoruichi rolled her eyes and checked her wristwatch.

"Four minutes!"

"Hold your horses, Hisagi!" To Orihime, Yoruichi said, "Are you ready?"

Orihime heaved a deep breath as she squared her shoulders, and closed her eyes. For a second, she saw her brother in the darkness, looking at her over his shoulder, smiling.

_"Accomplish this."_

She opened her eyes.

_"And I will tell you where you can find him."_

_I will find you. _Orihime vowed. _No matter what it takes, I will find you. _

She lifted her chin and met Yoruichi's gaze.

"I'm ready."

:

By the time they had reached the venue, Orihime was out of breath, her cheeks flushed. In their haste, she had stumbled a few times, but Yoruichi was there to help right her. Still catching her breath, she looked about her and blinked in stunned admiration.

Everything within the garden was blooming and radiant, leaves and petals shining under the spring sunshine. Cherry blossoms, dogwoods and redbuds stood full-bloomed and breathtaking, surrounded by carpets of snowdrops, peonies, hellebores, bloodroots, lilacs, daffodils, azaleas, and primroses.

Surrounded by flowering radiance was a pavilion. Guards circled the perimeter, and some had stopped flitting from their posts to look in Orihime and her security's direction.

"Come on," said Yoruichi. Orihime started and nodded.

They reached the entrance to the pavilion and were led to a hall. The double doors were shut, flanked by guards. Orihime fidgeted with her bouquet as her gown and veil were inspected, folds of cloth and train rearranged, her hair checked.

Orihime felt hands on her shoulders. "Orihime," Yoruichi whispered behind the younger woman's ear. "Good luck."

An unfamiliar piano piece started to play. And for a moment there, Orihime felt a sense of wonder.

Yoruichi stepped back, her hands leaving Orihime. "You'll need it."

When Orihime glanced over her shoulder, Yoruichi was gone.

The doors swung open.

:

She was nervous; the stares, the music, the flowers, the guests – they were all making her nervous.

There were more flower arrangements than people. More guards than guests. Either way, the decorations were lovely and if the circumstances were different, she would have cried with joy at how beautiful everything was.

Orihime stared right ahead. A mistake. She saw _him, _and she stumbled but caught herself in mid-fall. The back of her ears reddened in embarrassment as whispers floated around her. Embarrassed, she lowered her gaze to the floor, her blush deepening. She concentrated in walking slowly, afraid she'll completely fall over the next time she tripped.

Finally, she reached the end of the aisle.

Ichigo offered her his hand.

She glanced up to him through her veil. He was looking down at her, eyes lidded. His hair was slicked back behind his ears. Shyly, she placed her small hand on his. The static, she tried but failed to ignore. It sent a tingle down her spine, causing her to tear her eyes from his. She could not help it, however, to feel at ease when he wrapped his fingers around her hand. Such a warm hand he had. Strong and large with long fingers. She tried to ignore how good it felt to be held by him. How strange; she felt protected, and at the same time, vulnerable, like she was open to him and he knew her weaknesses, her secrets, the very essence of her. Strange as it was, it was also frightening.

The ceremony began; it was brief and formal. When he kissed her, she, _again_, tried and failed to ignore _that_ strange feeling welling in her chest. It was a gentle kiss, almost soft. For a man with hard eyes and large hands, he was strangely tender. A rush of affection coursed through her, shocking her. She told herself, _stop! _Put up your walls, you are here to charm this man, to _kill_ this man. To feel something – anything – was unacceptable.

Only the first day and she was getting soft because he was gentle to her… This attraction will _only _lead to a disaster.

He took her hand again, and she did not look at him.

:

Orihime wished the day would never end. Not because she was enjoying it, but she dreaded what was about to happen after the festivities.

Looking around her, she remembered her best friend.

The presence of her best friend would have alleviated her distress a little. Strange faces in strange clothes, wearing strange smiles surrounded her. Several guests had been looking in her direction with wariness. There were few who looked genuinely curious, though. One of whom was a young woman with black, short hair. She was petite and on the short side. Despite her height disadvantage, she had a good posture and bearing that made her stand out. This was, after all, Rukia from the House of Kuchiki, one of the four great families that shaped, influenced, and dominated the history and politics of Dainipponteikoku.

The Houses, however, were abolished by former emperor Engetsu as soon as the eleven-year long civil war between the Aizen and Kurosaki clans ended, ending the use of all titles of nobility or rank outside the immediate Imperial Family.

The Emperor laughed and the people around him turned their heads. Glasses clinked. A string quartet continued to play in the background. Glancing over the laughing man, Orihime remembered the private conversation she had had with him and his two daughters after the ceremony.

"Son, you are so lucky! To marry such beautiful girl! Ah, I remember when I married your mom… Oh, such lovely times! I couldn't help but shed a few tears as I watched; it's sad that I have to give you away!"

"Shut up."

The elder Kurosaki gasped. "Why you, my insolent child!" The Emperor pouted. "Orihime, please forgive him! And you," the older man poked Ichigo in the chest, causing the latter's scowl to deepen, "Listen to your wise old man, my son! Take your time in exploring your wife's—"

"I said shut the hell up!" Ichigo snapped.

Orihime gasped, shocked. Wasn't it improper to speak in such way to the Emperor?

"Don't worry about it. It's perfectly normal." Karin, the dark-haired younger girl, must have noticed her expression.

"But…"

"That's how they show how much they love each other. I'm Karin, by the way. And this," she gestured to the smiling blonde girl next to her, "is Yuzu, my twin sister."

"I'm very happy to meet you. I've wanted for so long to have an older sister," Yuzu said happily.

"Welcome to the family, my new daughter," said the Emperor with a broad smile after he recovered from his mild scuffle with his son. "Don't be shy! You can call me father from now on!" He laughed heartily, the sound deep and comforting. "I now have three beautiful daughters, I'm so happy! I'm surrounded by beautiful ladies!"

"Idiot." Ichigo scoffed.

"See, my new daughter? He's so grumpy! But let me assure you, he's very loving and—"

Ichigo grabbed his father's collar and shook him. "Stop it! You're embarrassing her."

Before she could stop herself, Orihime reached over and tugged at Ichigo's sleeve. "I-it's okay." Grunting, Ichigo acquiesced.

The older man practically vibrated in excitement. "You're such an angel, my new daughter! Maybe through you, my son will be redeemed!"

Orihime could only smile weakly.

:

When she entered a dimly-lit room, Orihime already felt faint with anxiety. After taking off her shoes, she ambled nervously around the room, twisting her fingers together, before sitting on the edge of the large bed, oblivious to the magnificence surrounding her. Her veil was discarded; the bouquet, she could not remember where she left it.

She fished the thin necklace from inside her wedding dress and stared at the hairpins hanging from the chain. Orihime was putting it on the bedside table when a knock startled her. She flinched, standing up quickly as the door swung open without a noise.

He stood in the doorway, head tilted downward. When he lifted his face and their eyes met, her heart fluttered and a strange muscle deep within her clenched.

The door shut behind him, and he stood there like the prince he was, tall, intimidating, imposing. His coat and vest were gone, and his long-sleeved shirt was untucked, the cuffs of his sleeves unbuttoned. His hair was no longer as neat as it was during the ceremony.

It felt as though the world had stopped around them. She cannot move.

They stared at each other quietly; she, wide-eyed; he, indifferent. Despite the indifference, she could feel the intensity of his gaze scoring her flesh.

When he began to move closer, Orihime stiffened. Ichigo reached up to loosen his tie and unbutton his collar. As he moved, she watched him carefully, trying to subdue her racing heartbeat. He had a careless, rough grace about him; the way he walked, the stride of his long legs, the way his muscles rippled at every step reminded her of a large cat – silent, graceful, focused.

At a glance, he almost looked harmless, but she knew it was an illusion; the air he gave off was of a lazy, but lethal, predator. His silent strength, his blazing eyes; it was a dangerous, thrilling combination.

He was closer now – and the air between them seemed to compress into itself – and moving toward her with slow, deliberate pace. It felt like she was being teased and tormented at the same time, and something else she refused to name. Every forward move he made, she took unsteady steps back. The corner of his mouth curled in a small smile, one she could not interpret. His hooded eyes remained guarded, though.

Orihime stood still and panicked when she realized she had been trapped between the wall behind her and the approaching man made of silk and steel; _bam bam bam _her heart went. Trembling, she pressed herself against the wall.

The black tie finally fell to the floor. He now focused on unbuttoning his shirt. It was halfway unbuttoned when he stopped and his arms fell to rest at his sides.

"Orihime."

At the sound of his voice, she felt her knees weaken. She bit her bottom lip, her heart racing faster, her lower belly clenching. These reactions he induced by calling her name caught Orihime off guard.

He took another step, disrupting her thoughts. She inhaled sharply, his closeness and scent distracting her. Even worse, she felt something hot stir in her at his nearness. She peered up at him through her thick lashes. She cannot read his expression, and she realized this man was an expert in hiding his emotions. Not that he had any sort of feelings towards the situation at hand.

"Breathe."

She took a deep but very shaky breath.

"Don't be afraid," he said quietly.

"I'm… not afraid," she whispered. Anxious, she was, but afraid that he might hurt her, she was not. What terrified her were her body's foreign reactions to Ichigo. She hadn't experienced those kinds of feelings before. Their intensity was making her dizzy.

He lifted his hands to her hair and plucked the pins that held up her hair. Some petals from the torn wreath clung to her hair. Her rich, sunset-colored hair tumbled down slowly, lock by lock, falling over and around her shoulders and framing her face. He ran his fingers through her hair, rubbing the strands between his fingers. This gesture felt surprisingly intimate, causing the tension to slowly seep off her body.

"Good." Ichigo lowered his face, moving closer until the tips of their noses were touching. "I'll be gentle."

Orihime met his gaze. His eyes had not changed, but they were not as detached as before. She smiled and said, "Thank you."

He did not reply and kissed her.

style ) o b 0 style:normal'

_I'm scared._

She gripped her skirt tightly, the fabric bunching inside her small fists.

There was no room for hesitation – her brother's life was at stake here – but she could no longer hear herself think because of the loud thrumming of her heart.

Her fingers curled tighter until her knuckles were white.

The plan was simple: get close, closer, and strike.

Executing the plan, however, was a different case altogether.

Judging from his brief appearances, briefer speeches and scowling visage, the Crown Prince seemed to be a difficult man to please. He seldom showed his face in public, opting to live his life as privately as possible. It was difficult, though; he was constantly hounded by the press, stolen pictures of him frequently gracing the front page of newspapers and, unfortunately, tabloids.

Finally, the car stopped.

Orihime felt her heart stop for a second, before racing so much that she felt a little lightheaded. But this was not the time to faint. She had a target to meet. She placed a hand on her chest and gripped the front of her blouse. Closing her eyes, she whispered a simple word, a prayer.

_Nii-chan…_

The door beside her swung outward.

She forced her eyes to open. Taking a deep breath, she turned to the door. _This is it_. She will watch and she will wait. And when the perfect opportunity presented itself to her…

Slowly, Orihime got out of the car. With a shaky smile, she thanked the guard who opened the door for her, and looked up to the opened doors of the lobby.

Seeing the covered entranceway up close, she felt the weight of reality crashing down on her. From now on, she had to fake her smiles, her expressions. Hide her intentions with a polite smile, disguise her carefully laid out plans with a courteous laugh. Pretend, lie, and act. Just thinking about it all made her feel sick and weak and disgusted and many other things she could not identify.

She's not a malicious child; she respected all forms of life, and above all, a human life. But what she will do, it was something she _had to do_.

_I will find you, Nii-chan._

:

She hoped that he would understand the choice she had made and the path she had taken, that doing nothing to save him had not been a matter of choice. Most of all, she hoped she will be able to forgive herself.

:

If the outer walls and the courtyards were splendid, no proper words could describe how impressive the interiors were. The south entrance hall was made of black granite, pine wood and marble. It was three-storey high where a staircase ran up to the mezzanine level. Two chandeliers made from crystal glass illuminated the room with light-purple beams.

She was staring at the reflections of chandeliers and lights on the floor with great concentration that she failed to realize that a figure was watching her from the top of the staircase. This figure descended one step, creating a sound that shattered the heavy silence like a firecracker.

Orihime stood very still and spun towards the stairs. A tall man with orange-red hair stood on top of the staircase.

As she watched the man move down the stairs, her heartbeat began to speed up so fast it hurt to breathe. She felt disjointed, as though her arms and legs were not in their proper places. As he moved closer, Orihime felt her knees weaken.

But she was a woman with a mission.

_Off with his head!_

She tore her eyes from him and bowed.

"G-Good afternoon," she said softly, her voice husky in anxiety. Orihime rose to her full height and looked up to him, offering a small, bashful smile. "I-I'm Inoue Orihime, sir."

As expected, Kurosaki Ichigo did not smile back as he gazed down at her. His presence was suffocating. He appeared taller, his shoulders broader in person; she was certain she barely came up to his shoulder. His spiky hair seemed to blaze with its striking luster. Orihime had always thought he had intense eyes, but she did not expect that they were _that _intense. Gold flecks accentuated the rich brown color, making his eyes almost glow.

The Crown Prince seemed unmoved as he regarded her. Regal, aloof. Orihime dropped her gaze to the floor, clutching at her skirt to hide her trembling fingers. His stare made her feel small, conscious of her simple background. Even worse, she felt like he was picking her apart, layer by layer, probing, looking for her secrets. This feeling of being stared at by him, it was bone-deep. Frightening.

Now, as she stood in front of him, Orihime felt her fright and uncertainties double. They clawed deep into her insides, gripping her heart. Kurosaki Ichigo was a man of strength; certainly, he was not the type of man who'd be easily charmed by a pretty face.

A new set of footsteps approached them.

"Right on time," a voice said, amusement lacing their tone. Orihime started and turned towards from where the voice came.

A tall, thin man with bucket hat over his blond hair was grinning in her direction. He wore a dark, shapeless straight-sleeved coat and green shirt and pants underneath. He carried a fan in one hand, while the other was waving at her. Orihime gave a small smile and dipped her head in a curtsy.

"Ara, ara, I'm just a lowly servant. No need to bow, Miss Crown Princess," he teased with a chuckle, hiding his face behind a fan. "Urahara Kisuke, madam, your ladyship. Welcome to Choshun-iro, the Imperial Palace."

"Hello."

"Oh, I like her. How polite, her highness," he said to Ichigo.

"Urahara."

Orihime felt a tingle run down her spine at the sound of Ichigo's voice.

"Of course, Mr. Crown Prince. Now then, shall we go?" Urahara asked, turning to Orihime.

"Go where?" she asked, puzzled. Urahara grinned.

"To prepare you for your wedding."

"Ehh? W-Wedding? But—"

Kindly, he said to her, "Yes, your wedding. Let's hurry up, shall we? I'll escort you there."

She must have made a facial expression that amused Urahara greatly for he laughed and said, "_Today _is your wedding, Your Highness."


	4. crave

**godsend** **  
><strong>crave **  
><strong>

:

At first, it was gentle. Then, the kiss slowly grew passionate.

It was different from the first kiss they shared. It had been chaste and simple, but _this– _Orihime felt like a ball of fire was consuming her. It clawed at her insides, melting away her inhibitions. Soon, without consciously realizing it, she was moving her lips with his with an intensity that shocked her.

A hand slid through her hair while an arm enfolded her waist, pulling her against his large, hot body. "Open your mouth," Ichigo growled against her damp lips. Dazed, she followed his whispered command and gasped when his tongue entered her mouth, brushing against the tip of her own.

Almost violently, she shuddered.

The strange feeling in her stomach grew stronger, coiling tighter as he deepened the kiss. Ichigo pressed her hard against the wall behind her, kissing her harder. His tongue skimmed over her bottom lip, slid inside to trace the rows of her teeth and her tongue. He caressed her face, her neck, and the sides of her breasts, and finally gripped her hips. Orihime curled her fingers into his shirt and held fast. He pulled back, his breath touching her wet lips, and she gasped for breath, trembling at the savage onslaught of sensations filling her at being so close to him like this.

A moan rushed from her lips when his lips latched onto her throat while his hands traveled to her back to locate the zipper of her dress. Ichigo found it with ease, dragging it down. The cloth parted, exposing the soft skin of her back which he caressed. Orihime sighed at the searing warmth of his large palms, spanning the small of her back.

Kissing her mouth again, Ichigo tugged on the dress and it fell around her feet. Orihime did not notice; only when he cupped her bare breast she took in that she was naked except for her underwear. With a gasp, she pushed at his chest and covered her breasts with her arms.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

Orihime swallowed, ducking her head, her hair cascading forward. "I… I'm—" Her skin flushed deeply at being exposed under his intense gaze. Ichigo watched her for a second before taking his shirt off completely. She blinked, her swollen lips parting in a gasp as she eyed the exposed flesh with curiosity.

She knew he looked good, lovely even, but out of his clothes… He looked better, someone out of this world. The sight of his bare chest, strong biceps and rippling abdominals muscles overrode her shyness of being nude, lacing it with fascination.

Ichigo took one of her hands in his and placed her palm on his chest. The heat caused Orihime's body to jolt in sharp awareness; he was so warm, steel-hard under rough silk. Wide-eyed with wonder, she moved her palm across his chest while her eyes roamed his body, looking as though she were examining a delicious cuisine. She had never seen something beautiful and hard at the same time. He was both alluring and frightening.

Very dangerous.

A hand cupped her cheek and lifted her face to make her look up at him, forcing her to stop her visual caress. Gently, Ichigo kissed her, licking her lips before biting and sucking her bottom lip. Orihime parted her lips, and his tongue slipped in. She felt him step closer to her until they were chest to chest, legs touching. She gasped when her nipples grazed his chest, causing them to harden with acute ache.

Large hands slid down her body and gripped her hips. With ease, Ichigo lifted her and held her close to his body. She curled her arms around his neck, a hand sinking in his hair. He ran his hands over the back of her thighs and pulled them around him.

At length, he carried her to the bed. Lying there, Orihime watched him unbutton his pants. Realizing where she was staring, she flushed and averted her gaze quickly, mortified at her boldness. His naked chest seemed to be a safest place to stare at. As she gazed at every ripple of his muscles as he moved, she began to feel an insane urge to bite him, to lick and sink her teeth into that thick, powerful muscle where his neck met his shoulder.

Her brow furrowed in worry; is that normal, to feel an urge to bite a person? Probably not.

A finger tracing a line on her thigh jerked her away from her thoughts. Wide brown eyes looked up to him. Ichigo was watching his hand. The fingers went up to her hip before skimming the line of the waistband of her thin panties. The tip of his finger stroked the middle of her pelvis, stopping at the top of her covered slit. Biting back a moan, Orihime turned redder with embarrassment; she knew that he can feel the wetness permeating the crotch of her panties. The finger moved downward, teasing the wet folds under the scrap of cloth, and then back up again, down, up, down, up, over and over until she became wetter and warmer that she almost wanted to beg. She bit her lower lip to suppress a plea that almost escaped her lips.

Oh, she will not beg, she _will _not–_ Oh please…_

Inch by inch, he lowered her panties, heightening her embarrassment and curbed desire. As Ichigo pulled her panties down her thighs, he watched her intently, causing her to lower her lashes over her eyes shyly. Her heart was hammering against her ribs, so loud Orihime was certain he can hear it.

Finally, her panties slipped free from her toes, and she now lay nude before him. Embarrassed, Orihime crossed one arm over her chest and tried to sit up, but Ichigo leaned forward, catching her lips in a fierce kiss. Her eyes widened before they drifted shut, responding to the kiss. A hand slipped between her thighs, long fingers stroking her moist slit. Heat coiled in her lower belly, causing her hips to squirm. She moaned against his lips, her thighs falling open, and a finger slowly slipped inside her.

A lance of pure lust pierced through her, straight to the part he was stroking. Every coherent thought she had had dissolved into moans and writhing. Panting, she clutched at his shoulders, squirming under his ministrations, her hips lifting and falling like a piston.

As his finger probed further, Orihime sucked on his tongue lightly. All too suddenly, he broke the kiss, much to her protest. He blew out a breath, his face tense. Placing a hand on her ribs, Ichigo bent his head, mouth closing over one stiff nipple. He swirled his tongue around the rosy bud before drawing it into his mouth and sucking. Gasping, Orihime threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. His teeth grazed her nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure through her. She felt like she was about to fly apart, her body hot and tight. Another finger was added inside her, his thumb massaging the tiny button at the apex of her feminine folds. Biting back a moan, she squeezed her eyes shut and moved her hips in time with his thrusts.

Ichigo drew away from her breast and returned to her lips, ravishing them. Adjusting his position over her, he withdrew his fingers and watched the rise and fall of her chest, the wide-eyed innocence of her gaze. Blushing fiercely, Orihime tried to hold his gaze, but the look in his eyes made her lower her lashes; if he continued to look at her _like _that, she did not know how long she'd be able to keep her guard up, how long she'd be able to remember why she was _here_, what she had to do.

Warm lips caressed her cheek, moving down until they reached her mouth. Closing her eyes, she relaxed into the kiss, wrapping her arms around him.

"…This might hurt… a little," he murmured against her swollen lips. She opened her mouth and he dipped his tongue inside, brushing the tip of her own.

Curling her fingers into his shoulder, she pulled in a breath and held it. The tip of his erection slid into her wet entrance. Orihime let out a moan, her back arching, thighs quivering. Ichigo panted above her, squeezing her hips. He brought one hand to his mouth, wetting his thumb, and rubbed it over her clit. She arched with a gasp, throwing back her head.

When he fully sheathed himself into her tight body, he kissed her deeply to drown the sound of her cry as he finally claimed her.

:

Orihime bowed off the bed, her cries muffled by his mouth.

They were still for a second before he started to move in and out of her, slowly at first before going faster. His strokes went deeper as he hung on to her hips tightly, groaning, an occasional swear word rolling from his mouth which sounded scandalously sexy, amplifying the desire, the pleasure. She gripped his back, muscles rippling under his moist skin. His hot, wet breath puffed wildly against her damp neck as his thrusts became harder, her moans and cries louder and keener. Sweat dripped from his wildly contracting abdominals to her soft belly, his hips flexing between her damp legs.

She was not naïve on what went on between a man and a woman, but she had not expected that it would feel like _this… _

A moan rushed from between her lips, her lashes fluttering, a new flush blooming in her cheeks as he thrust deeply into her. Orihime dragged her hand down his back, nails scoring his flesh. A hand reached up to her hair and stayed there, digging into the thickness of her damp mane as he kissed her neck, leaving a bruise, before tracing the curve of her chin with his lips, peppering her skin with light kisses before surging deeply into her and increasing his pace.

Feeling as though she was drowning, Orihime grabbed a chunk of bright orange-red spikes and moaned, panting his name out. Ichigo looked at her flushed face, thrust hard, and her response was to pull at his hair.

Suddenly, his eyes hardened, and he hissed. "Fuck." With a growl, he kissed her forcefully.

She clung to him, her body going wild, wilder; his thrusts going fast, faster, until a powerful spasm took over her body. Pulling her lips away from his hungry kisses, she cried out, feeling her body twist, her inner muscles contracting wildly. Orihime shook, eyes shut, feeling her world turn white and upside-down. It felt as if someone had yanked the ground below her.

Digging her nails into his skin, she held on as Ichigo continued to pound into her. Orihime let him have his fill, spreading her legs wider, trapped in a vortex of something raw and powerful – trapped and at the same time, safe. He groaned, cupping her bottom, lifting her off the bed, and thrust rapidly and deeply as far as he can go, before stilling and groaning again, his fierce orgasm matching hers.

Catching her breath, Orihime tried to collect her scattered wits and reorder her thought process. She struggled to remember who she was, why she was here. At first, it was such a difficult process. With him still inside her, throbbing, hard, and hot, she had trouble trying to collect her thoughts and arrange them. Weaving them together like they were threads under her fingers, until they form something she hoped was cohesive. Then she drew a line between her heart and mind: _do not cross. _

_Remember why you are here._

Staring up to the ceiling, licking her lips, Orihime steeled her resolve.

This was just an act, sex, consummation.

However, when he uttered her name, her resolve trembled like a building standing on water. Still, the rational part of her resisted.

Ichigo tried not to collapse on top of her and crush her under his weight, but his arms failed him. "Sorry," he whispered thickly in her ear.

"It's okay… I don't mind." She wrapped her arms around him, relishing his warmth and strength.

He lifted his head from her neck, and she knew that he was looking at her now. Orihime kept her gaze to the ceiling. Tenderly, he brushed her damp hair off her cheek and put his lips on hers. Despite herself, her lips curved in a small smile and she kissed him back. Unlike the previous kisses they shared, this kiss was slow and thorough, languid and intimate; his tongue mapped out the interior of her mouth, his lips caressing hers almost reverently.

They lingered like that for a long moment. Then Ichigo rolled to his back and pulled her against his chest. Orihime sighed deeply and pressed closely to his body, watching the play of lights from a lamp across the wall through half-lidded eyes, listening to the beat of his heart under her ear.

"I made a mess on you," he said after a long silence. Orihime nuzzled closer, humming in reply. He sat up, looked down at her, and ran a hand over her leg. She flushed at his touch and watched Ichigo swing his long legs off the bed.

"What are you–" Ignoring her mortified protests, he lifted her in his arms. "Y-You don't have to carry me! I'm heavy and—"

"You're not as heavy as I thought you'd be."

They reached the bathing area and Orihime's eyes widened; she had never seen such an extravagant bathroom. Everything was perfectly-polished marble; silver faucets, ceiling to floor mirrors, and right in the middle of the room was a rectangular bathtub, three times larger than a typical tub. Ichigo stepped into the filled tub, still carrying her. He lowered her carefully, and Orihime automatically lifted her arms to her chest while Ichigo sat behind her, his legs cradling hers as she sat between his legs.

"Relax." Ichigo told her when she stiffened when he touched her shoulders. "Are you in pain?"

"N-No…"

He grunted and continued to stroke her shoulders. Soon, Orihime began to feel at ease, the warm water and scent of bath oils soothing her, unconsciously leaning against her husband's chest. Breathing softly, she turned her head to the side. From the corner of her eye, she found him watching her beneath his lowered lashes. Her heart skipped a beat and hastily, she looked forward again, flushed. Her senses were fogged by multiple sensations as Ichigo traced the length of her neck with his index finger.

Orihime squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled deeply.

"Why are you so tense?"

She swallowed. His hands were now stroking her thighs. "I… I…"

"Are you uncomfortable?"

Dazed, she gazed at him over her shoulder. "N-No…" she answered quietly, lowering her lashes shyly.

Thirty five minutes later, they rose from the tub. Ichigo helped her step out of the tub and much to her embarrassment, dried her body with a large, white towel. He dismissed her stammering protests and continued to wipe her dry. Waving off her stuttered claims that she can walk on her own, he carried her back to the room. Orihime, blushing heavily, told him she can finish drying her body on her own but Ichigo simply shook his head and carried on with the task.

"What's wrong? You're blushing, you know." She peered up to him through her thick lashes, her body flushing under the weight of his stare. His hands caressed her slim neck then his long fingers ran through her wet hair, moving down to stroke her thin collarbones.

The towel fell around her feet.

Ichigo leaned down, titling her chin up, forcing her to look him straight in the eye. As though mesmerized, she watched him bend his head closer to press a gentle kiss to her mouth. Eventually, his arms enveloped her in a warm embrace, causing her to feel an urge to curl up in his chest, in his arms, to feel safe and protected. A very dangerous feeling, something she could not condone. She would have to keep those walls up.

He pulled her closer to his damp body, and there was a crack in those walls. Minute, but it _was_ still a crack.

Warmth settled in her chest at the intimate closeness of their bodies – in fact, embracing like this felt more intimate than what had transpired earlier. There was something in the way they held each other and kissed that tugged at her heart – a nagging, insistent pang. Unable to stop herself, she caressed his wet hair and kissed him deeply. Her hands roamed over his pectorals, chest and abdominals, grazing his skin with her nails. She pressed her palms harder and slid them lower to his hips.

When he pushed her down to the bed, she let him, and in between his kisses and touches, thrusts and grinds, her moans and his groans, she forgot that this was just an act, sex, consummation.


	5. east

**godsend** **  
><strong>east **  
><strong>

:

Sunlight pierced through the gaps of rustling curtains. Through half-lidded eyes, Orihime watched the small particles of diamond-patterned light floating in the space between the bed and the curtains. Her eyes drifted close. With a deep breath, she rolled to her back.

It was silent, except for the passing wind. Everything was motionless, except for the rising and falling curtains.

In the bed, Orihime was sleeping again, peacefully, deeply. Red hair framed her pale face. Halfway covered in sheets, her shoulders were bare, her right foot exposed.

Standing in the doorway, Ichigo watched her, the rise and fall of her chest, the brightness of red hair against the sheets, a pale thigh sticking out of the blankets.

One, two, three, four, seconds ticked by.

Then the doorway was empty.

:

As Orihime entered, her husband was already leaving the dining table, conversing with a thin man with dark hair and eyeglasses.

Ichigo paused in his movement before turning to face her. As if on cue, Orihime blushed and lowered her gaze, bowing timidly as she greeted him with a quiet 'good morning'. His footsteps started again, now going towards her. As he came closer, she fought the urge to step back and maintain the distance between them. Distance was good. Distance was safe. But he was quick, and he was now standing in front of her.

"Orihime." As usual, the sound of his voice elicited a stirring somewhere in her lower body. Orihime wondered if this was normal. After all, only he could say her name in the way he did and make her feel strange.

"A doctor will come today to check on you."

His statement distracted her from her musings. "But I'm not sick," said Orihime, bemused.

Ichigo elaborated for her. "The Imperial Household Agency wants to make sure the marriage is consummated."

Her first reaction was to put her face in her hands. Instead, she gaped at him, the blush now covering her neck and face, matching the color her hair. "I-I…!"

Looking vaguely amused, Ichigo smirked, looking at her in his sort of aloof way: withdrawn, guarded, polite. His gaze, flickering, fierce amber. How could a mere stare make someone's heart beat so fast that it hurt to breathe? Orihime decided it was unfair.

"It's protocol."

Still embarrassed, Orihime nodded, avoiding his eyes. "I u-understand."

Ichigo put his hands inside his pockets. "Ise Nanao is from the Imperial Household Agency." He gestured towards a dark-haired woman with eyeglasses. "She will be in charge of your training. If you need to talk to me about something," he paused, his scowl deepening thoughtfully, "you can tell her and she'll give the East Palace Chamberlain," he nodded in the direction of Ishida Uryuu, "your message."

"Can I tell you myself?" He gave her a curious look which caused Orihime to wave her hands in embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry! I-It was very impolite of me."

Ichigo shook his head. "Don't apologize. I don't mind if that's what you like. I also want to inform you that starting today you will live in _Tōgū_ with me." He scratched the top of his head, an annoyed expression flitting over his face. "My father wanted us to move here in the Imperial Residence permanently, but I'd rather continue living in a smaller and more modern building."

Then Ichigo surprised her by reaching forward to adjust the ribbon around the collar of her white blouse. It was an innocent gesture, but upon seeing his long, strong fingers, Orihime remembered last night, and how his fingers left imprints in and on her, to the very core of her being. To hide her embarrassing thoughts, she kept her lashes lowered, biting her bottom lip, terrified that her eyes will betray her.

Turning to Nanao, Ichigo said, "Take charge of the move this afternoon." Without as much as another glance in her direction, he sidestepped Orihime and left with Ishida.

:

He was a handsome man with thick walls around him. He was gruff but polite, a gentleman despite his rough countenance.

These were Orihime's observations.

After their wedding night, though they shared the same suite of rooms at _Tōgū_, her husband had not touched her again. He'd look at her, talk to her, and ask her if she was well, but he'd keep his distance. They ate breakfast together, and only during breakfast she was able to see and talk to him.

Theirs was a one-sided conversation, but there were instances when he'd contribute to the discussion. As the Crown Prince, her husband had many commitments and was often travelling. This explained why she woke up in the morning and went to bed at night without her husband on the other side of the bed. She was not even sure if he slept next to her or if he slept somewhere else. After all, their marriage was already consummated. Despite the physical distance, Orihime found herself drawn to him.

All Orihime had was tedious routine. Everything she did was strictly monitored. Different instructors were sent to her to teach foreign languages, current events, international relations and matters of the state, table manners, etiquette, history and traditions. Her education also included the proper way to walk, proper standing and sitting posture, how to handle reporters, and answer interviews. Learning all of these had been grueling, even for her who enjoyed learning new things. To complete her education degree, it was decided by the Agency that instead of going to the campus regularly, she'd only go for exams and important meetings with teachers.

On top of the challenging materials and demanding hours, most of the members of the Crown Prince's household were stickler for traditions, and therefore, had displayed disapproval over her lack of pedigree. Even so, they were not overtly unpleasant towards her. It still bothered her, though. She felt unworthy, insignificant, a trespasser.

A vivacious, blue-eyed blonde named Rangiku was one of the instructors sent to her. She was sweet and funny, and Orihime instantly liked her. She was, perhaps, the only carefree member of the household. Rangiku often teased Nanao for being controlling, uptight and strict, characteristics which were commonly associated with the Imperial Household.

However, there were times when Nanao would often give her an afternoon off on Sundays. Those free afternoons were spent touring around _Tōgū_ with a blueprint of the palace and its grounds in hand which she had 'borrowed' from the library. This will help her plan her escape strategy once she completed her mission.

Despite the amount of people surrounding her in her new home, Orihime felt more alone than ever. She could not blame Ichigo; she knew how busy he was. She was not a stranger to being alone, but she often found herself longing for companionship.

One night, feeling more exhausted than ever, Orihime flopped in bed and stared up to the ceiling. The master bedroom was airy, square-shaped, sparsely decorated with thin, gentle lighting. The walls were cream, brown and beige. On the wall above the large, white bed was a black and white painting.

Connected to the bedroom by vertical rectangular sliding panels were the bathroom and walk-in closets, both of which few times larger than her old bedroom. The one allocated to her overwhelmed Orihime the first time she saw it. The quantity and worth of clothes had shocked her, causing Rangiku to laugh at her reaction.

"Orihime."

Recognizing the voice, Orihime sat up quickly. Her husband was leaning against the doorframe, watching her beneath his lashes. For a long moment, she stared at him, mouth opened.

Ichigo shifted and put his weight on both feet. "Are you done staring?"

She blinked. "Oh!" Orihime turned bright red. "I-I'm sorry!" She hurried to get off the bed, shoving her skirt to cover her knees. "G-Good evening!" she said cheerfully, a warm feeling blossoming inside her, radiating from her chest where her heart was to her limbs, sinking in her bones.

Ichigo nodded. "I have something to tell you." He walked further into the room. "We will attend a social gathering tomorrow evening."

Orihime's lips formed a curious o-shape.

"This is our first time to appear in public. Be ready."

She gave a firm nod. "I'll do my best!" Ichigo stared at her, and Orihime felt she was being analyzed. Then he glanced around the room while loosening his tie.

"…Is there something wrong?" asked Orihime worriedly. Ichigo shook his head with a small smile.

"How was your day?"

Orihime blinked, surprised. "…I'm sorry?"

Ichigo cleared his throat and looked away, running a hand through his hair. A few locks stuck up at odd angles while some strands fell over his forehead. "Are you adjusting well?"

"Oh." She rubbed the back of her head, smiling sheepishly. "It's a little difficult to navigate around but I'm learning as fast as I can!"

"You can ask someone to accompany you so that you won't get lost."

"Oh, it's fine!" she chirped. "I can manage. All of them are busy and I don't want to bother them."

He unbuttoned the first three buttons of his shirt, distracting Orihime. "You're not a bother. It's their job to look after you."

Blinking to collect her scattered thoughts, she gave a small shake of her head and smiled. "I-It's okay. I enjoy looking around all by myself. I'll be all right."

"I see." The corner of his mouth tugged upward fleetingly. "One of these days… when I'm not busy, I'll show you around."

A wide smile spread over her face. "T-That would be nice. I'll look forward to it!"

"All right." He dropped his hands. "You should go to sleep. It's late." He turned to leave.

"W-Wait." Ichigo stopped and faced her, arching a brow inquiringly. "Wh-What about you? Aren't you tired? You've been working for the whole day."

He seemed to study her for a second, taking in her sincere curious expression and the faint hint of worry in her eyes. "I still have tons of paperwork to study," he answered slowly, as though carefully choosing his words. "I won't take long, though. I have an early appointment tomorrow."

She wanted to ask him where he was going to sleep, but that would be too bold for her, so she smiled simply.

"O-Okay… Good night."

His frown melted a little, his mouth twitching in a small smile. It was quick, fleeting. But for Orihime, it was enough.

:

"This is your _first _time to appear in public," Rangiku said while helping her decide what dress to wear. "You have to look absolutely perfect. But of course, we want you to appear perfect without trying so hard. The secret is to be all natural." She held up a long, blue silk dress, wrinkled her nose and tossed it aside. "Not good enough. Next!"

After several dresses, Rangiku finally found the one she liked best and excitedly instructed Orihime to try it on. When she reappeared, Rangiku made a pleased sound and uttered how the color brought out Orihime's complexion.

Orihime fidgeted, fighting the urge to cross her arms to cover her chest. "R-Rangiku-san." The blonde woman lifted an eyebrow at her. The blush deepened. "I-I… Isn't this too much?"

"What is?" asked Rangiku, confused.

With a tinge of panic, Orihime waved at her own body. "T-This!" she stammered. "I-I feel so e-exposed." Rangiku's expression shifted from confusion to amusement, and then she laughed.

"You're so cute," cooed Rangiku. "You look absolutely perfect! Am I right, Hinamori?" She turned to the younger woman with black hair.

Hinamori smiled. "You look beautiful." The compliment caused Orihime duck her head. She was not used to compliments, especially coming from people she barely knew. Nevertheless, she thanked Hinamori for her kind words and tried again to convince Rangiku to let her change into a more conservative evening dress.

Rangiku had chosen a deep scarlet gown with a floor-length skirt and shawl neckline. It was beautiful, very much so; however, Orihime felt oddly out of place, like it was not right for someone like her to wear such an extravagant dress.

"No," Rangiku replied firmly, the playfulness in her tone was now gone. "You look stunning. Did you already forget? Confidence! You're _the _Crown Princess – you have to dress up like one." Then she winked at her mischievously, making groping gestures in front of her own chest. "Besides, you've got to flaunt those assets!"

"Rangiku-san! Don't talk to the Princess like that!" Hinamori chided.

Rangiku waved a dismissive hand. "It's all right! They've already done the deed, so I'm sure she knows what I'm talking about." She gave another wink in Orihime's direction. Sputtering, the princess covered her face with her hands while Hinamori gave the snickering blonde woman another round of scolding.

Minutes later, Rangiku and Hinamori ushered her out of the room and down the hallway. They hurried down the lit corridor until they reached a stairway. Waiting in the middle of the landing below was Ichigo.

Orihime felt her breath hitch at the sight of him. His tuxedo emphasized the strong built of his body, making the color of his hair more prominent.

Upon hearing their footsteps, Ichigo looked up. Her heart rate sped up, thrumming erratically against her chest. She feared losing her footing because of how nervous she was. Determined not to let him know how a single glance from him affected her, she thrust her chin forward and held his gaze.

Despite her vow to maintain a composed façade, her face reddened brightly at the attention she was receiving. Thankfully, she did not stumble as she stepped down the stairs, remembering her past lessons on proper gait and posture.

When Orihime reached the second step, Ichigo met her, offering her his hand which she gratefully accepted.

"I'm not overdressed, am I?" she asked shyly, brow furrowed and the corners of her mouth turning down in an expression of uncertainty.

He gazed at her for a while. "It suits you," he said before turning away from her to accept the coat being handed to him.

:

"What are you fidgeting so much for?"

Orihime tore her gaze from the tinted window to look at him. "I'm n-nervous," she admitted and laced her fingers together.

Ichigo glances at her briefly. "It's going to be all right."

"But… I don't want to embarrass you," she said quietly. "I'm not very elegant and I'm clumsy too! I don't think—" She stopped and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry. I should not be complaining."

"It's normal to feel that way. It's your first time to appear in public after our wedding."

She glanced up his profile.

"You're my wife." He craned his neck to meet her gaze steadily. "I'm going to be there with you."

His words brought warmth to her heart. Regardless of the circumstance of their marriage, she knew she can rely on him. However, she knew that it was dangerous for her to feel attached to him. She should not worry about it, though. Time is needed for feelings of attachment to grow. And time was one thing that they did not have enough of. Soon, she will complete her mission, get her brother back and forget Ichigo.

The last thought caused her heart to ache, but Orihime gave herself a hard shake; there was _no _reason for her to feel sorrow at not seeing Ichigo ever again after her mission.

_Remember, you're doing this for your brother._

After taking a deep breath, she smiled and nodded firmly. "Thank you. I'll do my best to do what is expected of me."

"Good." The vehicle soon stopped in front of a hotel. Outside, a crowd of reporters and photographers had gathered.

"These people have no lives," Ichigo grunted, eyes narrowed. The windows were tinted, providing them short-lived privacy. When he turned to her, a small smirk was tugging at the corner of his lips, softening his stern face a little. "Let me help you relax."

"Eh?"

Surprising her, Ichigo leaned forward, cupped her cheek and kissed her. It was slow, teasing, his lips moving against hers lazily, but it stirred something passionate in her.

He leaned back slowly, watching the color fill Orihime's cheeks. "Ready?" he murmured, his eyes dark.

Blushing, Orihime licked her lips and gave a small nod, smiling. "Yes."

Ichigo moved to unlock the door, but she stopped him with a tug at his sleeve. "W-Wait!" She reached up and wiped his lips stained with lipstick. A strange look flitted over his face at her gesture, and then he turned his face away and opened the door.

:

The social gathering was a private dinner party to celebrate the success of the fund raising project of Kuchiki Byakuya. When they arrived, guests turned to watch them, cameras flashed, and conversations halted. Feeling the eyes of numerous people on them made Orihime more nervous, causing her to grip Ichigo's arm tightly. Feeling her grip, Ichigo glanced down at her briefly.

"Your Highness," a stoic voice said, tearing Ichigo's gaze from his wife. Approaching them was Kuchiki Byakuya. "It's an honor that you are able to grace us with your presence."

Several high-profile personalities stepped forward to greet them as well. Standoffish as ever, Ichigo received the greetings, maintaining his aloof but polite countenance. His answers were brief with politeness, his face set in a scowl, which she found very endearing. The write-ups about him being aloof, scowling and blunt were true, but he was well-mannered despite his unfriendly visage.

After the pleasantries, they moved toward their table, much to Orihime's relief. Standing in high heels was quite uncomfortable. As they made their way, Orihime felt Ichigo's demeanor change. As discreetly as she can, she glanced up to his face; he looked as though he'd heard a distasteful joke. Curious, her eyes flitted around the room, hoping to find what set his temper off. Her gaze fell on a pair of men— a pale-skinned lanky man with silver hair and smiling face and a darker man with a handsome, familiar face, tousled brown hair and dark eyes — both of whom were watching them approach.

"Good evening," the brown-haired man said cordially. Ichigo merely responded with a nod. Calculating brown eyes then met hers, fixing her with an admiring gaze. The man bowed his head, eyes never leaving Orihime's.

"Good evening, sir." Orihime had expected him to be handsome, but she could not help but notice that Aizen Sousuke looked more charismatic in person. He had a pleasant demeanor that drew anyone's attention. Aizen – the Minister of Foreign Affairs – was well-known for his looks and intelligence. His father Aizen Suigetsu served as a general under Kurosaki Engetsu and engineered unsuccessful mutinies during the previous Emperor's regime.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard many pleasant things about you," he said, his smile not leaving his handsome face. "I must say, you're more beautiful and charming in person."

"Y-You're too kind," Orihime stammered, a blush blooming in her cheeks.

Aizen fixed Ichigo an amused gaze. "She's a wonderful addition to your family, Your Highness."

A small smirk lifted the corner of Ichigo's lips. "I'm glad she meets your standards," he replied in a deadpan tone. "You'll have to excuse us. Dinner is about to be served."

Aizen smiled at Orihime, causing her to blush again. "Go ahead, then. Forgive me for taking much of your time." With that, Ichigo took her hand and escorted her to their table. Even with the increasing distance between them, Orihime could still feel Aizen's gaze on her.

"Ain't that interestin'?"

Aizen simply smiled. "Is it, Gin?" The other man grinned back.

Ichigo assisted her first before seating himself. "Are you all right?"

"It's just a little overwhelming," she said shyly, relieved that they were no longer under sharp scrutiny.

"You'll get used to it."

She shifted her gaze to the side. "I hope so."

"This is just the beginning, Orihime. Things will get more tiring in the future for you. A Crown Princess has many responsibilities." She flushed and looked down at her hands.

"I'll be ready," she said quietly before glancing up. Ichigo regarded her briefly, their gazes connecting. He put down the wine list and raised a hand. A waiter arrived and Ichigo asked for a bottle of wine. The waiter then left their table.

"Nanao-san often tells me it's not going to be easy. But she said that with proper education and guidance, I'll be able to properly perform my duties."

"That's right." He nodded. "You look fragile." At this blunt, abrupt comment, Orihime blinked at him. "But I'm sure you know what you're getting into when you agreed to marry me."

Uneasiness twisted her stomach into knots. Orihime cast her gaze towards the table, choosing to examine the soft surface of the tablecloth. The waiter returned with their drinks and Ichigo took a careful sip.

"I take it you know our history well," said Ichigo after a long silence.

Curious, Orihime looked up from the table.

"I'm the first member of the Imperial Family to marry a commoner. And that makes you the first commoner to have entered the Imperial Family. Many think that this is an odd arrangement."

"Odd?" she repeated cautiously.

Ichigo shrugged, deadpan. "Do you know that you're the _only_ commoner in the list of royal brides?"

"_There are fifteen candidates, fourteen of which are members of former noble families. Despite your plain family background, you have suitable credentials…"_

Her employer had told her the same thing. Ichigo had noticed the oddity, hadn't he? This left Orihime feeling even more apprehensive: was it possible that her husband was aware of the conspiracy? He was an intelligent man after all. It was too early to tell. Still, if he knew, why did he marry her? She was certain he would not risk his family.

"I've heard those comments before," Orihime admitted, her wide-eyed stare belying her erratic, nervous heartbeat. The conservative pencil pushers from Imperial Household Agency were upfront with their disapproval and skepticism at her being chosen and had made it clear she was not fit for her station.

"Have you seen the news or read the newspaper?"

She shook her head. "Nanao-san said newspapers will only distract me. Um…" Orihime's eyes were round with curiosity as she asked, "Did… Did I do something they didn't like?"

"Not yet. But the press will do anything to get info about you and exaggerate them."

"Oh, Nanao-san told me about them. She said they are awful and cruel and what they say should not be taken seriously." The media was notorious on their savage, almost-obsessive fascination on royals.

"I hate them." Ichigo said with an edge in his tone, his scowl deepening. "I hate them the most when they harass my sisters." He leaned back in his chair. "I'm certain after tonight, you will be caught in the eye of paparazzi storm. This is why I need you to be careful and prepared. You're an easy target because of your background. They'd dig around for stories to sensationalize."

A frown wrinkled her forehead. "Stories about _me_?"

He arched an eyebrow at her worried expression. "Why do you look alarmed? Have you done something?"

She furrowed her eyebrows, a finger to her chin. "Ah, um… Oh!" Her face brightened. "I brought home a jackhammer before."

Ichigo's eyes widened. "What, a jackhammer?"

Orihime grinned. "Un! I saw it in an abandoned warehouse. I thought no one would look for it and I brought it home and…"

"What?"

"I tore it down to pieces."

He looked stunned. "…Why?"

"I was curious!"

"You were?" Ichigo sounded unconvinced, still looking bewildered.

"I wanted to know how it worked so I… I know it's weird but I couldn't help it!" A sheepish giggle slipped from her lips. "I saw it on TV once and I've never seen anything like it before so when I saw one in real life, I brought it home! It's not stealing, right?"

Orihime frowned at her husband's expression. The corner of Ichigo's mouth was twitching; at the same time, he was biting his lower lip. He grabbed his wineglass and took a long sip, emptying the glass.

"Are you all right?" asked Orihime, her eyebrows knitted in worry.

Clearing his throat, Ichigo arranged his expression into a neutral one. "Yeah." He shifted his gaze to the side, and muttered, "This is the weirdest conversation I've ever had with a girl."

Around this time, Kuchiki Byakuya had climbed up to the small stage, microphone in hand. The small crowd listened to his brief speech, ending it with thanking the project's sponsors and his colleagues. After a round of applause, dinner was served and conversations in the dining hall resumed.

When their dinner arrived, Orihime's eyes widened at the sight of their food. She had never seen such an elegant food presentation before.

"Is there something wrong with your dinner? Do you want another…?"

Orihime looked up at Ichigo and waved her hand. "Oh! No, it's fine!" She gave him a broad smile and laughed. "I'm just a little surprised… It looks too beautiful! It feels almost wrong to eat it…"

"Wait." She looked at him, puzzled. Ichigo reached over, took her plate and cut the meat into equal, bite-sized squares. Then he returned it in front of her.

Taken aback by gesture, Orihime gaped, her heartbeat going haywire again. A strong, almost-forceful feeling engulfed her like a night sea. It was something she had never felt before, something that was beautiful and just as terrifying.

"Orihime?"

She started, then, realized she was still in an important public social engagement, surrounded by members of upper class, and social norms must be observed.

Quickly putting on a proper, practiced smile, Orihime beamed at him, concealing the sudden surge of emotion she was feeling. "Thank you!" Ichigo studied her for a while until he nodded, tucking into his own meal.

* * *

><p><strong>notes:<strong>

(1)_Tōgū Palace _– _East Palace_ or _Crown Prince's Palace_ is a real place. This is a fictional representation and will be inaccurate.


	6. auburn

**godsend** **  
><strong>auburn **  
><strong>

:

After lunch, Orihime reentered the library. As she went to the table where her things were, her gaze zeroed in on a discarded broadsheet.

_A peek won't hurt, right?_ Nodding to herself, Orihime lifted and unfolded it.

As Ichigo had told her two nights ago, there were several articles about her. Aside from the articles, there were photos of her too. The current ones were of her in the figure-hugging evening gown, causing her to blush in embarrassment.

She flipped through the pages hurriedly to avoid looking at the photographs. A page piqued her interest, which happened to be an entertainment page where a section was provided for gossip. Hinamori told her once that the Imperial Family was a popular target of paparazzi and scandal-mongering, particularly Ichigo.

Gossips rarely caught her eye. It was impossible, though, to avoid them, mostly about Ichigo, at the university. He had many admirers, and admittedly, she had heard various gossips about him.

"That's the gossip page," a voice said behind her, a tinge of amusement coloring the speaker's tone.

Startled, Orihime spun, almost dropping the paper in shock. "Hinamori-san!" She blushed furiously, making Hinamori giggle.

"It's all right. I won't tell Nanao-san," Hinamori teased. Orihime grinned sheepishly, and checked the local news instead. As she skimmed the page, a short article caught her attention.

"Is it common for elected officials to have extended vacation, for at least two months?" Orihime asked without looking up.

"I don't think so. Are you talking about the members of the committee who chose you as the Crown Prince's bride?"

Orihime pointed to the short article. "There's an article here saying they haven't come back from their vacation."

Hinamori nodded. "Apparently, the stress of deciding which woman is eligible was too much to bear. They also suffered criticisms because of their decision." No surprise there. She was, after all, a commoner. She did not belong here. She was working hard to prove her worth, but it was not enough. _She _was not enough.

"I've heard some rumors about conflicts between the Agency and the committee," Hinamori said, "By tradition, consorts of emperors and crown princes had always been chosen from Nakatomi clan. Have you heard about them?"

Orihime shook her head. "I would've remembered them if they were mentioned at the university. Even the instructors from the Agency who taught me history and traditions didn't mention them."

"They're a very old blue-blood family and extremely secretive. Rumors say they have the power "to trespass into God's territory". And _that_ makes the women of Nakatomi clan valuable. Many clans wanted to possess them, believing that through them all of their ambitions will come true. However, I heard rumors that there aren't many of them left."

"What happened?"

Hinamori tapped her chin. "I read a legend in an old history book I found a couple of years ago. It said that in every fate they manipulated, tragedy befell them. In other words, the misfortune that was supposed to fall on the 'client' went to their family instead."

Orihime's jaw dropped open. "Th-That's cruel!"

Hinamori shrugged. "If it was true, then, it's no laughing matter. So to protect their family, they left the capital and chose to live in a monastery."

Orihime's brow furrowed. "Since they're not available anymore, to keep the Imperial line pure, the Agency wanted the next best thing: a bride from one of the four great Houses."

Many had speculated that Kuchiki Rukia would have been chosen due to her family background and perfect upbringing. Orihime frequently heard her name and saw her face in newspapers: she was said to be intelligent and elegant, and she apparently possessed a sharp tongue. Like the Crown Prince, Rukia was known to be fiercely protective of her privacy.

Ichigo had long refused to discuss his private life. Nevertheless, he had been a frequent object of press speculation regarding purported romances. No romances had been confirmed, yet many women had been linked to him, including Kuchiki Rukia.

Orihime glanced up in thought. _I wonder… What is their true relationship? Did they— _Her spine stiffened indignantly, catching where her thoughts were heading. _Why do I even want to know? _

She did not have any right to question the nature of their relationship. Even the slightest curiosity will put her mission at risk. Their marriage was nothing but a means for her to get access to the private life of the Crown Prince to make her mission easier. Her husband was free to pursue other women.

Hinamori smiled awkwardly. "The Agency is very old-fashioned. They want pure-bred heirs."

Heat rose to Orihime's face at the mention of heirs.

Hearing a door opening, Hinamori glanced over her shoulder. Catching a glimpse of Nanao closing the door, she quickly snatched the newspaper from Orihime. "I'm sorry. It's Nanao-san," she whispered. Orihime nodded, giving her a grateful smile.

Orihime waved to Nanao cheerfully. "Good afternoon!"

"Good afternoon. Please take a seat." Orihime promptly obeyed, smoothing down her skirt. "After your successful first public appearance, it was decided to further promote your public image. You will now officially start your duties as the Crown Princess."

Nanao opened her briefcase and from it extracted a thick folder. She put it down before Orihime. Orihime skimmed the first page and gingerly turned to the next page.

"I need you to study everything in that folder," Nanao said. The folder was as thick as the medical books Orihime used to see in the library of the university. Undeterred, she nodded enthusiastically.

"I'll do my best!"

Nanao bowed with a nod of her head and turned to leave but Orihime got to her feet and hurried over to the black-haired woman. "I'm sorry, Nanao-san, this is going to be quick."

"It's all right. What is it?"

Orihime fidgeted with a pleat of her skirt. "May I ask a question?"

"Of course." This caused Orihime to smile with optimism. Nanao was strict, but Orihime believed she was a broadminded person and will understand her feelings. When was the last time she last saw Tatsuki? One month ago? Two months ago? It felt like a decade had passed since she last saw her friend. She had left without explaining anything to her. Her best friend was an overprotective worrywart when it came to her.

"Can I have a Sunday off? Um, this Sunday, if it's okay," Orihime said.

Nanao furrowed her eyebrows. "What for, may I ask?"

Orihime grinned. "I want to see my best friend. Could you arrange our meeting, if that is okay?"

Something analogous to pity flitted over Nanao's face briefly. "I apologize, Your Highness, but that is impossible."

Orihime started. "B-But… Why— Why is it impossible?"

"You have more important things to do, far more important than meeting an old friend." With a small nod of her head, Nanao walked past a flabbergasted Orihime.

"W-Wait, Nanao-san, please!"

Nanao paused and turned to her. "I'm sorry, Your Highness. Trivial things such as meeting up with an outsider are not permitted."

"But she's _not_ an outsider," Orihime pointed out.

"She is not related to you," Nanao replied, "hence, an outsider."

"She's my _best friend,_" Orihime countered, "She's like a sister to me. I know she's very worried about me. I have to see her, tell her I'm all right. Please, Nanao-san, just an hour with Tatsuki-chan is enough for me."

Nanao frowned, weighing her options, and then sighed. "I don't want to give you false hope, but I'll talk to my superiors about your request." Instantly, Orihime's demeanor brightened, but Nanao hastened to add, "Let me tell you, however; the chance of your request being granted is almost zero."

However, Orihime was not discouraged. "But you're still going to try, aren't you, Nanao-san?"

"Yes, I will."

Orihime smiled broadly, relieved. "Thank you! That would be great!"

"Don't forget to study the report I gave you. I'll see you tomorrow for your calligraphy lesson."

:

Nanao had warned her before but hearing the negative result still overwhelmed Orihime. Sliding her trembling hands under the opened book before her, she strained for a smile. "They'll reconsider, right?"

A flicker of sympathy briefly passed over Nanao's eyes before she shook her head, her tone quieter than usual. "The Grand Steward already made his decision."

Orihime opened her mouth to plead her case again, but she hesitated. Nanao already had many duties to deal with, and Orihime knew she had tried her best to help. There were just things that could not be done. Unfortunately, seeing her best friend – something so simple – was one of them.

The next days passed slowly. Her energy refused to return despite her acceptance of not seeing Tatsuki. Hinamori frequently asked her if she was alright and she'd reply with a smile, forcing cheeriness into her tone so as not to worry the other girl. Hinamori would let the matter slide, nodding in acquiescence, but her eyes say otherwise. She was worried, and Orihime felt guilty for worrying her. However, she cannot stop herself from feeling dejected.

Tatsuki was strong, and did not need someone to worry over her, but Orihime was worried that Tatsuki was _worried _about her. They had parted ways with unanswered questions hanging between them. Tatsuki could keep track of her activities via the media but still, she wanted to provide her best friend with a personal report of her wellbeing. Most importantly, she missed Tatsuki terribly. It felt like the other half of her body had been severed.

With a deep sigh, Orihime fell backward onto the bed and turned to one side. She had been provided with a brief reprieve from her lessons on languages. It was not a difficult subject for her; her brother was fluent in four languages and he taught her the basics. Today, though, she found it hard to concentrate on the lectures.

Grabbing the nearest pillow, she buried her nose into it, one hazel eye peering through the unruly reddish brown strands.

_I miss Tatsuki-chan so much… I hope she's not overworking. _Knowing her, Tatsuki probably was. She strove for perfection and was fiercely competitive.

With a soft grunt, she hugged the pillow tightly, burying her face into the soft fabric, wondering about the delightful smell coming from the pillow. _This is—_

"What's wrong with you?"

Startled from her musings, she lifted her face from the pillow. Through messy red strands, she saw a pair of long legs in her line of vision. She blinked but the image did not disappear.

"Orihime."

She closed her eyes and tried to regulate her breathing. Calm down, breathe in, breathe out… Calm down, calm down, calm–

The bed sagged, indicating that Ichigo had sat down next to her.

Oh, forget being calm. Her heart thudded frantically, going _bam bam bam _so loudly that she thought her heart will jump out of her ribs.

"I was told you were sick."

Orihime flushed. She was not sick; she was _sulking _and her husband had caught her moping. _How embarrassing! _Taking a deep breath, she raised her head and brushed her hair off her face. A mistake, she later groaned in her head, because she now had an unobstructed view of her husband's handsome scowling face. The _bam bam bam _returned with a vengeance.

His frown deepened. "You're red. You really are sick, then?"

Carefully, Orihime sat up, folding her legs under her bottom. "I don't get sick." She winced inwardly; her cheerful voice sounded plastic.

"Everyone gets sick every once in a while."

"Not me," she said promptly. "I don't get sick. Not anymore." The look he gave her caused her smile to twitch uncomfortably. Orihime looked over his shoulder to avoid his gaze. "I-I'm… I'm just feeling a little sleepy today!"

His eyes narrowed. "You're lying. What is it? Why didn't Ise call a doctor?"

"Because I'm not sick," she insisted softly, now gazing at the loop of dark-red hair on her lap.

"Why are your eyes red? Have you been crying?"

Blinking rapidly, she glanced up to him and hurried to contradict his observation. "I'm—"

"Listen," he interrupted. Something about the tone he used caused her to pause in her stammering and stare at him. "You have to tell me what's wrong. I _want _to know."

Orihime swallowed. "I…" She bit her bottom lip, gripping her skirt. "It's just…" She cast her gaze downward, her tone shaky as she told him about her predicament.

"All I want is an hour with Tatsuki-chan. I just want to reassure her that I'm fine and there's nothing for her to worry about," she continued, looking up to him.

Ichigo studied her face for a while, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "Tell me about her."

The thought of Tatsuki made Orihime smile. "She's my best friend." The fondness for this best friend was apparent in her eyes and voice as she continued, "She's strong and kind and is the second strongest girl in Dainipponteikoku!"

Ichigo's eyebrow arched at her last statement. Orihime's smile turned into a goofy grin. "She's a karate champion and she has a very mean hook. She taught me some cool moves. Like this," and she demonstrated a karate move, "She said I have the fighting skills of a black belt."

She giggled at the skeptical look Ichigo shot her. "Tatsuki-chan's always protected me and cheers me up whenever I'm down."

He frowned. "Whom does she protect you from?"

"Oh." She cast her eyes down, biting her lower lip, hesitant to talk about her past. "When I was very young, I always got bullied because of my hair."

His frown deepened, his gaze flickering over the top of her head. "Your hair…?"

Orihime tenderly pulled her hair forward over her shoulders, the full length now pooling on her lap. With a nostalgic smile, she lifted a lock between her thumb and forefinger. "When I was very young, kids my age thought my hair color was weird. When a couple of older girls cut my hair off, I had to lie to my brother that it was I who had it cut. I didn't want him to worry about me, but I knew it hurt his feelings seeing my hair so short." She smiled up at Ichigo who was listening to her attentively. "He always liked my hair color and because of him, I kept it long."

She dropped her hair and curled her hands into fists, putting them on top of each knee.

"Tatsuki-chan has always told me not to back down. She's always there, looking out for me. Because of her, I was able to grow out my hair again and make my brother happy. This long hair is the proof of my faith in Tatsuki-chan and our strong bond."

"…I see."

"I know she's worried about me. I need to see her and tell her that I'm all right. I…" Orihime hesitated for a moment, not wanting to burden Ichigo with her problems. "I should not ask favors from you but… y-you're the only one who can help me."

Ichigo turned a piercing gaze at her. She blushed, embarrassed but pressed on. "Could you tell them to allow me to see Tatsuki-chan? You're _the _Crown Prince. They will listen to you."

Ichigo gave his head a small shake. "It's not that simple. But I'll try," he added hurriedly, seeing her downhearted expression.

He was rewarded with a bright smile at his answer. "Thank you so much!" Ichigo knitted his eyebrows together.

"Oi, hang on. I said I'll try. I'm not going to promise you a positive result. They," he said, referring to the people from Imperial Household Agency, his expression darkening, looking a little annoyed, "they're not very friendly."

Orihime kept smiling. "I'm still grateful that you'll try. Thank you."

From the corner of his eye, Ichigo glanced at her, examining the length of her hair before speaking again. "So you're going to grow it until it reaches the floor?"

Orihime blinked. The question caught her off-guard; it was kind of strange to hear Ichigo comment about her hair. "Oh… I'm not sure!" she replied, finally out of her startled stupor. "But since I promised myself that I'm not going to cut it ever, it'll probably grow so long! I can even use it as a scarf or a rope!"

Ichigo shifted until he was facing away from her, his back to her. "You're not the only one who had problems because of hair color."

"What do you mean?"

"My parents enrolled me in a normal elementary and junior high school under a false name. The only people who knew my identity were the school principal and the homeroom teacher."

"They did? But don't all children of Imperial Family attend Gakushuin?" she asked, referring to the private school for those of royal blood and extremely affluent families.

Ichigo shrugged. "My mother wanted me to attend a public elementary and junior high school." He ran a hand through his tousled, red-orange hair. Mesmerized, Orihime watched his long fingers sink between orange spikes, leaving them messier than before. "I always got into fights because my hair color pissed people off." He scoffed, his back flexing lazily. "I'm not the type of person who starts petty fights but I got to defend myself, too."

Ichigo stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'll let you know if they granted your request."

"Your Highness, thank—"

"Orihime," Ichigo cut off, turning around to frown down at her. "Call me by my name. You're my wife. It sounds ridiculous when you address me so formally."

She colored brightly and fidgeted. "I'm sorry. I-I just… We're not… I-I mean…"

"We're not what?"

Her blush deepened, looking at anywhere but him.

"It's not like we're strangers to each other."

"I know…" Orihime mumbled, lowering her lashes.

"I know things that no one knows about you."

Something seized inside her. Heartbeat racing, she curled her hands into small fists. "Wh-What… What do you mean?"

_Does he know… my secret? _

He shrugged, turning to leave. "You're ticklish, right?"

With a jolt, Orihime looked up to him.

"Eh?"

Pausing, he looked at her over his shoulder. "And your neck's sensitive." His voice dipped lower while his lips curl in a tiny smirk. "Do you want me to continue? There are other parts of your body that are _very _sensitive to touch…"

Orihime's eyes widened, her face flushing at the thoughts filling her head. "N-No!" she gasped, mortified. "Y-You… You don't have to!" She rose to her knees, waving her hands. Her obvious discomfort seemed to increase Ichigo's amusement, his smirk widening into a brief grin.

For a split second, she was in awe at the sight of Ichigo grinning — a brief peek of what seemed to hide behind his tough façade — then she remembered _why_ he looked amused, and she felt her whole body warm and flush in embarrassment.

Clumsily, she crawled off the bed, her skirt riding up and showing glimpses of pale skin to Ichigo who gazed at the strips of skin with forced indifference.

"Hinamori-san is p-probably looking for me," she squeaked, not looking at Ichigo.

Not bothering to pick up her shoes, Orihime rushed out of the room without sparing him a glance, too mortified to look at him. The door shut behind her and she leaned against it, her heart pounding against her ribs. She covered her red face with her hands.

_M-My face is so hot!_

"Your Highness, why are you barefoot?" Hinamori's voice snapped her out of her daze.

"A-Ah, Hinamori-san!"

"Your face is so red. Did something happen?"

"Oh! Oh, n-nothing! Nothing at all!" She waved her hand side to side forcefully. "Let's go! Nanao-san is probably looking for me!"

"Wait, Your Highness, where are your shoes!"

:

"Oh, it's Ishida-san! Hi!"

"Good morning." Ishida gave a small bow with a nod of his head. "The Crown Prince sent me here to deliver a message." At the mention of Ichigo, Orihime straightened up in her seat, anxious and excited at the same time. "The Imperial Household Agency denied your request. The Grand Steward wanted to remind you that your duties as the Crown Princess are your priority and nothing else."

In some way, she had expected this. She knew how the Agency felt about her. It still stung, nonetheless.

"I-I understand. Thank you."

Orihime got up and approached a window. She brushed the curtain to the side and stared outside. Behind her, Ishida and Hinamori exchanged glances, before Ishida excused himself.

Without glancing behind her, Orihime said, "Please excuse me, Hinamori-san. I need a moment, please."

"I'll be outside when you need me."

"Thank you." She spent several minutes gazing at the gardens. She had not visited the gardens yet. Perhaps tomorrow she'll go and ask to help tend it. It will definitely help improve her mood.

Behind her, the door creaked open and Hinamori's gentle voice floated in. "Excuse me, Your Highness?"

"Yes," she said without glancing away from the window.

"You have visitors, ma'am."

Before Orihime could reply, a familiar voice said, "Orihime-nee!"

Orihime turned around. Two girls stood in the doorway, regarding her warmly. "Yuzu-chan! Karin-chan!"

Yuzu gave a cheery wave while Karin nodded with a small smile. Orihime's expression brightened in genuine happiness upon seeing them. She stepped away from the window and approached them.

"Are you busy, Orihime-nee?" asked Yuzu with a sweet smile. Orihime shook her head. "Great! We're here to give you this!" The younger girl thrust a white envelope in her hands.

Curious, Orihime opened it. It was an invitation.

"It's our birthday next Saturday and there's going to be a party."

"A party?" exclaimed Orihime in surprise.

"It's next week, May 6th. We hardly celebrate our birthdays with parties, but Onii-chan finally allowed us to hold this one. I've been trying for years, but because of his paranoia of paparazzi breaking in, he always refused," Yuzu explained with a pout. "I'm really glad he changed his mind. Now that you're here, it'll be more special!"

Orihime smiled shyly, touched by the gesture. "Thank you, Yuzu-chan, Karin-chan, for personally inviting me. I've never attended a birthday party before…" she admitted with a small laugh, rubbing the back of her head.

Karin smirked. "It would be my first, too. I don't like parties at all. Too many people, it's annoying."

"Karin-chan!" chided Yuzu.

"What? You know I don't like parties. Anyway, I have to go. I'm beat. You coming, Yuzu?"

"Yup!" Yuzu waved to Orihime. "See you on Saturday, Orihime-nee."

:

When Ichigo entered and closed the door behind him, a stagnant silence welcomed him. Ever since he got married, his quarters had ceased from being _this _silent. He'd step in and he'd know his wife was in one of their rooms. It was not because she made noises, but there was something in the air that told him of her presence.

Loosening the tie around his neck, he moved toward the bedroom. It was empty; even the study, where he often saw her curled in one of the couches and reading, was empty. He checked the other rooms; all of them were empty. On a wall was an antique round clock showing the time. Ten twenty five. The frown became a deep scowl as he strode out of the room. A passing housekeeper in the corridor told him that the princess had not left the library since afternoon. What could have kept her in the library at this hour?

There he found Orihime at a desk, bowing over the table. At the sound of the door and approaching footsteps, she spoke without looking up. "Hinamori-san, you're still here? You don't have to wait for me. I'll be fine, don't worry!"

"Orihime." She looked up so quickly Ichigo thought she hurt her neck.

"Ichigo-kun?"

Surprised, Ichigo stared at her. It was the first time she addressed him using his first name. "It's past ten. You're still awake," he said after recovering from his surprise. "What are you doing?"

Smiling, she gestured to him to step closer. She appeared to be knitting something which shape had yet to be recognized. "I was thinking of making a stuffed toy for Yuzu-chan and a stuffed football for Karin." She looked up to him, a small frown marring her face. "What do you think? Will they like them?"

"Perhaps. Yuzu likes stuffed toys and Karin plays football."

"That's great– ow!"

"Oi, be careful."

After several minutes of watching her (thrice, she poked her own fingers accidentally), Ichigo decided to intervene. "It's already late, Orihime. Why don't you go to sleep?"

Orihime hesitated. "But— Ow!"

"You can finish them tomorrow. Your fingers are not pincushions."

Putting the recently abused finger in her mouth, Orihime blushed. In fact, she felt tired and sleepy, her eyelids drooping in exhaustion.

"You're right… If I continue in this condition, my gifts will be ruined." After putting away her sewing materials, she followed Ichigo out of the library, yawning and massaging her fingers. After changing into her baggy pajamas, she climbed into the bed and slipped under the sheets. Ichigo did not reappear, prompting her to call out.

"Ichigo-kun?"

There were light shuffles, and Ichigo reappeared, still wearing his undershirt and pants for work. "Yeah?"

"Aren't you going to sleep?" she asked, folding her hands on top of the covers.

He leaned against the doorframe, a hand inside his pocket. "I'm going to finish some reading materials first."

She smiled sleepily, eyes half-lidded. "You work so hard. You have to rest, too."

The corner of his lips turned up in a small smile. "Go to sleep, Orihime. I'll see you in the morning."

:

Two hours later, Ichigo reentered. He was shirtless, only wearing dark-colored drawstring pants. He stopped in the doorway and stood there, the shadows hiding his expression. The room was dimly lit by a crystal lamp. It shone faintly from the bedside table, while the rest of the lights were off, shrouding the other parts of the room in darkness.

He padded across the room, his movements disrupting the shadows, and sat in the armchair. The position of the chair provided him a clear view of his sleeping wife. The light from the lamp touched the half of her sleeping figure, engulfing the other half in darkness.

Lying on her back, her long, thick red hair fanning across her pillow, she slept like a child, deeply, innocently. Few locks curled over her shoulder, her bangs gently framing her right cheek. Her lips were slightly parted as she breathed, her chest rising and falling rhythmically.

Ichigo leaned back, hidden by the shadows, and watched her slumbering face.

* * *

><p><strong>notes. <strong>thank you, cindy, as usual!

And to everyone, thank you so much for reading and giving me feedbacks! :D


	7. empress

**godsend** **  
><strong>empress **  
><strong>

:

The twins' birthday party was going to be held in a private villa, a favorite location of private celebrations because it was isolated and protected by a small pine forest.

When they arrived, the parking area was already full. The Mercedes curved around the full lot, bypassing it. Farther ahead was a gate. Two guards slid it open, revealing a path. This lane, enclosed by thick hedges and magnolias, led to the back of the villa.

The convoy parked next to the curb. Guards flew out from the sedans and surrounded the area.

A guard opened her door and Orihime climbed out. She extended a hand to take the gifts, and Sado, a tall, quiet man who's always seen with Ichigo, shook his head. Without a word, Ichigo gestured to her and she followed him.

They entered through a backdoor, held open by a guard. The hallway was well-lit, the floor made of dark wood. She followed Ichigo closely, her eyes wandering, appreciating the walls and paintings.

Ichigo looked over his shoulder. "We're close." He reached back and took her hand, and she blushed upon contact.

They arrived in a large drawing room and crossed the length of the polished wood floor until they entered another hallway and exited a door to a veranda.

Stretched out before them was a garden, dotted with trees, small hills, a red bridge, lanterns, and rock arrangements. White lilies floated and gathered in the corner of the pond. Farther ahead of the pond was a pavilion where round tables were laid out, covered in pink tablecloths and topped with pots of pink flowers. White, pink, and lavender flower garlands curled around the pillars. Spherical paper lanterns hung from the arches. Servers shuffled around, carrying food and drinks. A handful of guests milled around, chatting in groups.

"Orihime-nee!"

Several heads turned at Yuzu's call, drawing attention to the couple.

"Happy birthday, Yuzu-chan," Orihime said, smiling warmly when Yuzu arrived. The younger girl was dressed in a turquoise outfit, a perfect match to her fair hair. Orihime took one of the gifts from Sado and she handed it to the girl with a broad smile. "This is for you! I hope you'll like it."

Yuzu beamed at her. "You shouldn't have bothered! But thank you so much, Orihime-nee!" Yuzu took her hand and tugged at it excitedly. "Come, Karin-chan is over there!"

"Yuzu," Ichigo cut off. "You just can't drag my wife away from me."

"Yeah, don't go stealing Ichi-nii's wife, Yuzu." Karin appeared from Yuzu's left, wearing a simpler dress.

"Karin-chan, happy birthday!"

Smiling, Karin took the gift from Orihime. "Thanks, I appreciate it." Karin turned to her sister. "Some guests are looking for you."

"Okay. See you around, Orihime-nee, Onii-chan!" Yuzu waved to them before leaving with her sister.

"Ichigo." A new voice rang out from their left. Ichigo and Orihime turned towards it.

"Rukia."

Beside Ichigo, Orihime was enthralled. _This is the first time I've seen her up close. _

Rukia had amazing posture. Despite her petite stature, she made a strong impression on Orihime. Her cornflower blue dress complimented her pale skin and dark hair, and her hairstyle suited the shape of her face. When Rukia fixed her with a look, Orihime smiled politely and bowed with a deep nod of her head.

"This is Kuchiki Rukia," Ichigo said with a nod toward the dark-haired woman. "I'm sure you've heard about her family from your lessons."

Orihime smiled. "Yes. I've heard so many things about the Kuchiki family and about her, too."

"Good things, I hope," Rukia said with a small smile.

Orihime nodded. "Oh, yes! You are very well admired, Kuchiki-san."

"You're quite lucky, Ichigo." Rukia's smile was wider and mischievous when she turned to Ichigo. "You got yourself a pretty wife." At the compliment, Orihime blushed deeply. "If not for Imperial Household Agency's great taste, no one _that_ beautiful would marry someone like you."

"Shut up," Ichigo grunted. "Where's Renji? Is he here?"

Rukia lifted her chin. "Of course he is. Nii-sama is here. He doesn't go anywhere without Renji, you fool."

Ichigo scoffed and glanced at his wife. "Are you hungry? We-" He stopped abruptly when Orihime gasped in surprise, gazing somewhere behind him. He followed her stare.

"Tatsuki-chan!" Ichigo and Rukia watched Orihime run and pounce on a dark-haired, lanky girl with a happy squeal.

"Goodness, Orihime, your breasts are suffocating me."

Remembering she was in a sleeveless, pink cocktail dress, Orihime pulled back and grinned at her best friend. "What are you doing here? How did you– Oh, I'm so glad, Tatsuki-chan!" She threw her arms around Tatsuki again to give her another tight hug. "You don't have any idea how much I've missed you!"

"I missed you, too, kiddo." Tatsuki patted her head and looked around, noticing several eyes staring at them. "Uh, Orihime, are you supposed to talk to a commoner like me? They look confused…"

"Oh, don't say that! I'm a commoner, too. And those are bodyguards."

Tatsuki narrowed her eyes, nodding. "Gee, they look tough. They should be, though. Anyway, someone came to my apartment and gave me an invitation."

Orihime blinked in surprise. "Really? Who was it?"

Tatsuki thought for a moment. "I think his name is Ishida."

"Ishida?"

"Yeah, Ishida. Oh, I remember now— Ishida Uryuu."

Orihime's eyes widened. "B-But he's—" She jumped slightly in shock when an arm curved around her waist, pulling her into someone's hard chest. She looked up to her scowling handsome husband, his gaze on Tatsuki.

"Arisawa Tatsuki?" His voice was formal and low.

Tatsuki returned the analyzing gaze with her own, her face forbidding. "Yes."

"Ichigo-kun." Orihime did not notice Tatsuki's eyebrow twitch at the familiar address. "This is Tatsuki-chan, my best friend. Tatsuki-chan—"

She narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, I know him. I've seen his mug a couple of times on the television. He looks grumpier in real life." A long tense silence followed. Orihime fidgeted as she stood between two formidable scowling forces. She glanced up at Ichigo nervously, then at Tatsuki.

"Um…"

Ichigo looked down at her. "I'm sure you want to spend time with her," he said quietly. He stepped away from her, putting the hand he had placed around her waist inside his pocket. "Someone will come and get you when it's time for us to leave."

Orihime nodded with a small smile, relieved Tatsuki's comment was ignored. He turned to leave. She watched him go, walking towards Rukia who was waiting for him. Together, the two walked off. A tall redheaded man soon appeared and joined them.

:

"His orange hair looks even more abnormal in real life."

"Tatsuki-chan, that's not nice!" she chided gently as they made their way to the nearest table. They sat next to each other, and they talked. Mostly it was Orihime who talked as Tatsuki listened with a small smile twisting her lips.

"Is he treating you right, Orihime?" Tatsuki interrupted.

Orihime blinked, and then she blushed, looking down. "Yes." Tatsuki raised an eyebrow at her blushing but did not make a comment about it.

"You're okay with this, right?"

She peered up at her best friend, looking bewildered.

Tatsuki sighed. "We both know what I'm talking about. _This_. Everything."

Orihime said nothing, gazing pensively in the direction of the pond. She looked sad and lost for a moment, like she was recalling a heartbreaking memory, prompting Tatsuki to reach out and take her hand.

"Orihime?"

A bright smile lit up Orihime's face, the one she always wore to soothe Tatsuki whenever she worried. "I'll be fine, Tatsuki-chan. There's a lot of work to be done but I can handle it."

Tatsuki looked uncertain at first, until Orihime squeezed her hand and said, "Don't worry about me."

"I will always worry about you. It's not a bad thing," Tatsuki added. "You're my best friend. I like worrying about you. It's just— I can't believe you're married. To the Crown Prince. It's so out of the blue. Weird, even."

Orihime bit her lip, gazing off to the side.

"It's not because you two are from two different worlds. Hell, your being a commoner is probably the reason why they picked you. You know, to impress the people, for equality and stuff. But _really, _of all the girls, you were picked." Tatsuki shook her head. "Surreal."

"I know," Orihime murmured.

"Excuse me," a male voice said behind Orihime. She glanced over her shoulder to look up to Hisagi.

"Pardon my intrusion, ma'am. You have a charity event at five and the Crown Prince will meet up with the dignitaries from Vena at four."

Orihime nodded. "Thank you." She faced her best friend. "Tatsuki-chan…" She hugged her friend closely, tightly, like a child clinging to their mother.

"Hey, it's going to be okay, Hime," Tatsuki said comfortingly, patting Orihime on the shoulder. "We'll see each other soon."

"Tatsuki-chan, I miss you already…" Orihime mumbled against Tatsuki's shoulder. "And there are so many things that I want to talk to you about."

The two girls pulled apart, and Tatsuki shook her head with fond exasperation. "You're so cute." Orihime pouted, furrowing her eyebrows. Amused, Tatsuki laughed. "Go on, your husband's waiting for you. I'll miss you, too. But you have duties; you're no longer a common girl. You now have big responsibilities."

"I know…"

"Good. You're smart; I'm sure you'll get on easily. E-mail me or send me a traditional handwritten letter soon, okay?" Tatsuki chuckled lightly, seeing the tears brimming Orihime's eyes. "No crying, okay? I watch TV now, you know, because of you. So smile, all right?"

Orihime nodded determinedly. "Okay. I'll see you soon, Tatsuki-chan. Definitely." Tatsuki nodded.

"This way, Your Highness." Hisagi led her, while two more guards flanked her sides. Orihime kept looking over her shoulder at Tatsuki, waving a small hand. Her friend raised a hand in return.

Ichigo did not look up from the report he was reading when the passenger door from the other side opened and Orihime slid in. Several minutes of silence passed between them before Ichigo opened his mouth to speak, looking at her profile. What he saw made him pause. His eyes narrowed, seeing the tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.

"Orihime."

She blinked repeatedly, lifting a hand to brush her eyes. "I'm all right. Thank you…" she whispered. With a bright smile, Orihime turned her head to look at him. "Seeing Tatsuki-chan today made me really happy. Thank you, Ichigo-kun."

He looked away to look outside his window.

"She doesn't approve of me, does she?"

"Oh. What made you say that?"

Ichigo looked at her, incredulous. "Didn't you notice the way she looked at me? She looked like she wanted to kill me."

Orihime leaned closer. "What are you talking about? That's her normal face."

"Her _normal _face?" he repeated in disbelief.

She nodded, beaming. "She's really something, isn't she?"

Ichigo blew out a breath. "Without a doubt."

:

The May morning light from the open window lit the area of the library where Orihime and Nanao gathered. Hinamori had gone to the kitchens to request tea. A pounding on the door disrupted Nanao's lecture, followed by a creaking sound of the door opening.

Nanao put the book down and without glancing at the door, she said sharply, "The Crown Princess is busy. Return after two hours."

"Mou, I just want to check on my third daughter for a few minutes!"

Recognizing the voice, Nanao stiffened and looked towards the door. There stood a tall man with dark hair and a toothy grin across his face.

Hurriedly, she rose to her feet and bowed graciously. "His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor."

Staring dreamily with her mouth open at the space before her, Orihime perked up, the last word registering to her. "The Emperor?"

A booming voice from her right nearly caused Orihime to shriek in shock. "My beautiful third daughter!"

Wide-eyed, Orihime stared at the beaming man for a second before jumping to her feet. "Y-Your M-Majesty!"

The elder Kurosaki pouted. "My dear third daughter, please call me Daddy! You don't have to address me so formally!"

Orihime blushed deeply. "I-I…"

"Aww, don't be shy!" Playfully, he nudged her with his elbow, laughing. "Isshin-papa is here to personally invite you, dear daughter of mine, to our yearly family luncheon on June 17th. It's a family tradition and no one is allowed to be late!" He waggled his index finger and then took her hands and clasped them as he beamed down at her. "It would be a perfect time for us to bond, my most favorite daughter-in-law!"

"But I'm your _only_ daughter-in-law…"

"Oh! Ha! That's right!" he laughed and put an arm around Orihime's small shoulders, causing Orihime to squeak and blush again. "But you're going to join us, right?"

Orihime glanced at Nanao inquiringly and she nodded briskly. Smiling shyly, Orihime nodded. "Y-Yes, sir."

The Emperor pouted and whined, "It's Daddy!"

"Um… D-D-Daddy." It felt odd to say such a foreign word; she had never met her father. Sora never talked about their parents.

The elder man seemed to vibrate with enthusiasm. He scooped her in a bear hug. "Now, that wasn't so bad, right, Orihime-chan?" he cooed, patting her head.

"Acting like a juvenile in front of your daughter-in-law, that's disgraceful."

Orihime traced the source of the new voice to the doorway where a man in a pale grey suit and wearing frameless eye-glasses stood. He looked vaguely familiar to her: the sharp look, erect stature, the eye-glasses; she felt like she had seen them before.

The Emperor pulled back and crossed his arms. "Oh, drop it, Ryuken! Don't make me look bad in front of my precious daughter-in-law!"

The bespectacled man narrowed his eyes but did not say anything. He turned to Orihime and bowed. "My name is Ishida Ryuken. I am His Imperial Majesty's Grand Chamberlain and his aide-de-camp."

"Ishida?"

"Unfortunately," Ryuken began, standoffish, "I am related to Ishida Uryu. I am his father."

"Oh!" Orihime exclaimed in surprise. "Good morning, sir. I'm sorry, I wasn't aware of your relationship with Ishida-kun."

"There is no need for apologies." Ryuken faced to the elder Kurosaki curtly. "We must leave now. The convoy is waiting. We are expected to arrive at 1000 hours." With that, he strode out of the room.

"Amazing Daddy must go, dear daughter of mine! Don't forget our date!"

"I w-won't!" Orihime waved back timidly, giggling behind her hand when she heard the elder Ishida barked at the Emperor to move faster. Smiling, she turned to Nanao, "His Imperial Majesty is such a cheerful man!"

Nanao nodded, sitting down. "He is. But do not let that cheerful façade deceive you. Like the former Emperor, His Imperial Majesty is extremely intelligent and a military expert." Her eyes cleared as though she recalled something important. "I trust you are reading the manuscripts I sent for you two days ago."

Smiling, Orihime sat down. "I'm on the fourth chapter, Nanao-san."

"Very good. I am also pleased with your test scores. 98 percent."

Orihime beamed. "You're an excellent teacher, Nanao-san!"

The older woman looked surprised at the compliment, a light blush coloring her cheeks as she ducked her head to hide her pink face. "Thank you," Nanao said after recovering her composure. "Well then, please carry on with your reading."

After several pages, Orihime looked up from the page. "Nanao-san, may I ask something?" When the other woman nodded, she continued, "I forgot to ask Da—" she flushed, and corrected herself. "His Majesty. What's the yearly family luncheon for? What do they celebrate every June 17th?"

An odd look flitted over Nanao's face. A distant, melancholy look came over her eyes, which caused Orihime's brow to furrow in curiosity: what was yearly family luncheon for?

_What is so important about the 17__th__ of June? _

"Nanao-san?" Orihime urged softly.

The older woman took a deep breath and wore her polite neutral mask once again. "I am not in the position to answer your question. It is prudent to ask an Imperial Family member."

"I understand." Orihime rubbed the back of her head awkwardly. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Nanao only shook her head to dismiss her apology.

:

As the 17th of June loomed closer, her husband's demeanor underwent subtle changes. He was quieter, more withdrawn, and the air around him seemed to lack its usual intensity. His eyes were still fiercely intense; however, she noticed something else in his gaze whenever she managed to catch his eye on her. There was something faintly odd in the way he looked at her at times. A different intensity. She was now used to being analyzed by her husband, but this razor-sharp scrutiny felt different.

When Nanao told her it was better to ask a family member on the significance of 17th of June, she had decided to try asking Ichigo. But she had copped out, remembering Nanao's strange reaction to her question. Something extremely important must have happened on that day.

Whenever Ichigo caught her staring at him, he would ask her if there was something wrong.

"N-Nothing, nothing's wrong."

"Are you sure?"

She'd nod quickly, flash a smile and say good night before rolling onto her side, away from her husband's questioning gaze.

The day of the luncheon arrived. 17th of June.

During breakfast, Orihime noticed the somber mood of the palace staff. The atmosphere was thick with tension, and the servants looked as if they wanted to be anywhere but in the same room with the Crown Prince.

At the other end of the table, Ishida started his morning report. Ichigo nodded and asked brief questions. In the middle of Ishida's last report, announcing Ichigo's four o'clock conference, the orange-haired man looked up and gazed at her.

Startled at being caught staring, Orihime jerked back slightly, flushing. There, the strange, intense look she had been receiving from him for the last few days.

His eyes narrowed and, without breaking eye-contact from her, he nodded slowly, showing Ishida that he was listening. After a few minutes that felt like an hour or so, Ichigo averted his gaze, placed the napkin on the table and stood. He walked toward her, his gait slow. Reaching her, he stopped and looked down at her.

Honey-colored eyes nervously looked up to meet his gaze, and her heart raced; _bam bam bam bam _it went.

The quiet was deafening, a condensed silence bearing down on Orihime like a huge tarp.

"I'll see you later," he finally said, his voice low. Despite herself, Orihime tried to smile. His eyes darkened, as though her smile reminded him of something painful. But the expression was too brief that she thought she merely imagined it. With a final nod, he continued on, followed by Ishida and Sado.

Now alone, she noticed that her hands were shaking.

_That look… what does it mean? _

:

By eleven A.M., the door swung open and Nanao entered, followed by a tall woman with long dark hair.

Recognizing the tall grinning lady, Orihime gave a huge smile. "Yoruichi-san!" The last time she had seen Yoruichi was on her wedding day. The older woman grinned at her, giving her a teasing salute.

"The Crown Prince will meet you in the Imperial Residence. Ishida-san called, saying the Crown Prince's midday meeting ran late," Nanao told Orihime.

Yoruichi placed a hand on Orihime's shoulder. "I'll be going with you, Princess."

"You will?" The older woman grinned as a reply.

"Yoruichi-san is the head of the Imperial Guard," Nanao elaborated. Yoruichi grinned proudly.

"The Crown Prince wanted me to accompany you," added Yoruichi. "He doesn't trust you with anyone else. I might have to revise your security detail." Yoruichi glanced at her watch. "You ready?" she asked, examining her attire: a modest, gray sheath with collar. Orihime's long hair was held back by a black thin headband.

Orihime nodded.

"Good. Let's go." Yoruichi took out a handheld transceiver and gave out an order. After receiving a reply, she strapped it back to her belt.

The ride did not take long. They passed the Imperial Palace and drove deeper into the gardens behind the Palace. The Imperial Residence was in the northern section of the imperial grounds. It was as old as the Imperial Palace, but unlike the palace, had undergone renovations to incorporate contemporary materials and design.

When they arrived, the Emperor, flanked by Urahara and a tall man with dark glasses, were waiting at the gates. He welcomed his guests enthusiastically, ushering Orihime inside while thanking Yoruichi for bringing his 'precious daughter-in-law' to him safely. The familiarity between Yoruichi, Urahara and the Emperor was obvious, causing Orihime to wonder about their relationship.

Yuzu and Karin were already seated in the dining hall when the Emperor and Orihime entered. The three girls and the Emperor chatted whilst waiting. Fifteen minutes before twelve, Ryuken entered and informed the Emperor that his son will not be able to join them for lunch.

Karin frowned disapprovingly, while Yuzu protested, "But Onii-chan knows how important this lunch is. He has to be here, with Orihime-nee."

Silence stretched on uncomfortably.

"Who cares about that insolent son of mine!" their father sniffed theatrically. "What's more important is that my precious daughter-in-law is here!" He flashed Orihime a wide grin. "I am sure he'll join us later, correct, Ryuken?"

"Yes, sir," answered Ryuken.

"Good! Let's start, shall we? Isshin-papa is very hungry!" He reached out and patted Orihime's wrist. "Don't be shy, Orihime-chan! Eat as much as you want! You have lost weight, haven't you, dear? My poor daughter —"

"Shut up already," Karin grumbled under her breath.

Orihime found herself enjoying the affair. The experience was different from having lunch at _Tōgū_. She usually ate alone, the sliding doors drawn, providing a view of the gardens. Her only company was the sounds of nature; chirping birds, the passing breeze and the rustling of leaves.

After lunch, the Emperor whisked her away to a drawing room while the twins headed off somewhere. He told her to take a seat and wait for him. Minutes later, he reappeared, arms full with what looked like photo albums. She took one from the Emperor and opened it gingerly, eyes widening when she saw the first page.

Ichigo's father had given her a photo album of Ichigo as a child.

He must have sensed her hesitancy – these were personal photographs, which she doubted her husband would like to share with her – because he encouraged her to flip through the photos.

"Go on! But don't tell him I showed them to you!" He snickered and proceeded to give enthusiastic anecdotes with every picture. Orihime was especially charmed by a picture of a two year old bright-haired child, grinning toothily at the camera while clutching a stuffed lion.

When the twins reappeared and discovered that their father was showing off their brother's baby pictures, Karin rolled her eyes.

"He'll murder you, old man."

"Shh! Don't tell him!"

"Are you insane? He'll find out— eventually."

"I'm ready," chirped Yuzu. "I have everything here." A bag hung from her Yuzu's arm. Bemused, Orihime put the photo album she just finished browsing on the table and followed them. She still did not know what the luncheon was about, and even though she wanted to know and ask, she did not want to pry. They'll tell her when they wanted to.

After crossing several halls and corridors, the four of them arrived at a veranda. As they conversed, Karin and Yuzu led the way, walking down a footpath littered with purple petals. When Orihime looked up, she saw a sea of wisterias hanging down from a latticework surrounding what appeared like a huge tree.

Seeing Orihime's awestruck face, the Emperor chuckled and reminded her to look where she was going otherwise she'll trip. Blushing, Orihime giggled and carefully sidestepped a small crack. The footpath ended and a row of red shinmei torii appeared. They continued walking and emerged into a square garden full of wisterias, cherry blossoms, dogwoods, redbuds, pears, crabapples, and purple leaf plums.

"This… is beautiful," Orihime whispered, wide-eyed with wonder.

"Of course!" The Emperor grinned proudly. "She tended this garden well."

_She?_

"Let's go, shall we? She's waiting for us. I'm sure she'll love to meet her beautiful daughter-in-law!"

Orihime blinked at the Emperor, puzzled.

They carried on walking, finally emerging into a circular clearing. In the middle was a large, rectangular stone monument. Sunlight poured onto the clearing, the beams focusing on the lone stone, like a giant spotlight. When Yuzu and Karin started to clean the stone, scrubbing and wiping it with cleaning materials they had brought with them, Orihime finally realized what it was.

"Orihime-chan, I'm sorry. I invited you without explaining to you the significance of this day."

In front of the stone, Yuzu and Karin stood together. Orihime looked up to the Emperor and found him gazing at the stone with a serene expression on his face.

He met her questioning gaze with a gentle smile. "This is the late Empress's grave."

The Empress.

The Imperial Majesty the Empress of Dainipponteikoku.


	8. yielding

**godsend** **  
><strong>yielding **  
><strong>

:

The late Empress died on the 17th of June. The Crown Prince was eighteen years old.

There was speculation that the beloved Empress died because of an illness. The funeral was held on the day of her death. A strict censorship was reinforced: no news articles and broadcasts were made on the late Empress' death as the Imperial Family dealt with their loss in private.

For years onwards, no anniversaries were held. No special commemorations concerning her departure were conducted. It was as if _it _did not happen. Soon, her passing became a part of the distant past. Some had forgotten; few could remember.

The Empress was hardly mentioned in history textbooks. If she was, the description was brief: she was born on 9th of June and died on 17th of the same month due to an illness the Imperial family refused to divulge. When she was alive, the Empress, like her only son, was extremely private. However, despite her scarce public appearances, whenever she appeared, only lovely words were used to describe her: beautiful, charismatic, and kind.

:

After the brief visit, the girls left while the Emperor offered to give Orihime a tour of the garden.

Embarrassed, Orihime turned to face him with an apologetic and sad smile.

How could she forget? She, who was now, to some extent, related to _her_? But then, layers of secrecy shadowed her passing. This did not, however, diminish her feelings of mortification and inadequacy.

"I'm s-so sorry. About today, it's so absurd that I didn't know-!"

"Don't apologize, Orihime-chan. You were only twelve or thirteen at that time! Childhood memories are more important than historical events," he said warmly. He glanced skyward, smiling a little. "This day – it is only for _us_. I don't want to make this a public holiday. My wife had always wanted to live a simple life away from prying eyes. We honored her wishes until the very end." He then looked down at her, grinning. "C'mon, Orihime-chan! Let's continue our quest!"

Orihime nodded and fell into step beside him. The Emperor led her deeper into the garden, pointing to the trees and the memories attached to them.

An energetic ringer ripped in the air. The Emperor made a face and took out a ringing ultrathin flip-phone from his pocket. "I am busy with precious daughter of mine!" he huffed as soon as he answered the call. Orihime giggled behind her hand. He pouted, covered the mouthpiece and said, "Excuse me, Orihime-chan. I need to take this call."

She smiled at him. "Please don't worry about me. I'll be all right!"

He beamed at her fondly and turned, walking away from her while speaking to his phone. She glanced away from the sight of his retreating back and decided to carry on with her exploration.

As she ambled along the path, a soft tinkling sound that resembled the sound of flowing water caught her attention. Orihime followed it and found a small stream right away. She hurried over the edge and peered over the surface. Tucking the hem of her skirt behind her knees, she crouched and dipped her fingertips into the cool water.

Grinning, Orihime then plunged her whole hand in the water, drawing large circles, oblivious to the half-lidded gaze following her every unguarded move.

After monitoring the sparkling surface of clear water for some time, Orihime got to her feet and looked around. Rays of sunlight poured down through the leaves and branches, creating a golden mist as it hit the ground. Particles of light floated like golden dust in the air, making her feel as though she were somewhere magical.

Deciding to continue exploring, she followed the path of dogwoods. Dry leaves crunched under her heels. Her footsteps later slowed down. _Oh. _She looked to her right, stopping. _I should go back. The footpath ends here. Where should I… _She blinked, looking around.

Orihime glanced upward with a smile. _Heh. I'm lost._

As she retraced her steps, she came upon an old metal bench with thick iron legs. She sat down, caressing the seat with reverence. Leaning back, she lifted her face to gaze at the sky, rays of sunlight filtering through her lowered thick lashes.

This scene was familiar: she was a young girl, surrounded by trees and sunshine, just like this, laughing, playing hopscotch, sometimes, hide and seek. He was smiling kindly at her, _be kind, Orihime, be kind because each and every person is fighting a hard battle._

Sora, their Sunday walks, the footpath littered with leaves and twigs, she running, hopping, _slow down, Orihime or you'll trip! _His hands catching her, breaking her fall.

A sensation constricted her chest, engulfing her heart. How she missed her brother terribly. Where could he be? She'd know once she completed her 'task'. But she needed to hear his voice, see his kind face. Tell her what to do. Stop, carry on, or give up.

Each moment she spent with Ichigo weakened her determination – which had been very frail, even from the very beginning – to carry out her plan. He's a good man, and his family had treated her well. They had lost their mother, and were still deeply affected by that loss.

Moreover, her brother would be so disappointed over her. Even worst, he might condemn her and that _would_ shatter her.

She sighed, shoulders slumping. It was strange, even to her, to feel this sad all of a sudden.

"Orihime."

Startled, Orihime looked to her right and found her husband standing a few feet from where she sat.

She turned her body to face him. "I-Ichigo-kun… You're here."

The corner of Ichigo's mouth tugged up in a small smile. "You're lost, aren't you?"

Orihime rubbed the back of her head, blushing. "Eh heh, a little!"

Ichigo smiled back, amused.

"I'm glad you came. We thought you're not going to come."

Under the sunlight, Ichigo's hair was both golden and fiery. "I'm sorry I'm late. The meeting was extended."

"It's okay. You're an important man, doing an important job. Oh, your father was here a while ago. He had a phone call so he had to leave."

"I saw him on my way here." His eyes narrowed. "He didn't do or say anything weird, did he?"

"Weird? How," asked Orihime.

He shrugged one shoulder, his scowl deepening. "He's the epitome of insanity. Did he mention anything that might have embarrassed or offended you? You know how ridiculous he is. Always exaggerating."

"He's a perfect gentleman."

Ichigo looked doubtful at first but nodded, smirking. "Good to hear that he actually acted like an adult today." He looked around then, his frown a bit wistful as though remembering something poignant.

"This was my mother's garden. No one's allowed to enter except for my family and the two old gardeners who helped her."

A blush rose to her cheeks. "O-Oh! I…" she stammered, embarrassed, looking lost. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't know—"

"What are you talking about?" he cut off, arching an eyebrow. "You're my wife. You're a part of my family now." He adjusted his posture and his next words were said with careful calmness. "I have to go somewhere. Would you mind coming with me?"

Orihime assumed that he was going to visit his mother's grave. She felt uncomfortable at being made to accompany him to visit a place of great significance. She felt out of place.

She rose from the bench, clasping her hands together. "Is it really alright for me to go with you?" She noticed him hesitate, his eyes changing, narrowing, a flicker of something, perhaps anger, peeking through his eyes. But in a nanosecond, his cool façade returned.

"Yeah," he answered, easing her worry.

They reached the monument. Orihime stood back to give him privacy, but Ichigo waved at her to come closer. Together, they stood in front of the stone. There was no engraving. It was plain and smooth.

_I'm sorry._

Orihime closed her eyes. Her chest felt full that it was painful to breathe.

_I know you will never understand and forgive me. But I have something I must do_. _I need to look for my brother. I need to find him. _

She offered a short prayer afterwards. Rest in peace.

But how could she when the person who will fire a bullet into her son's head was standing right there, praying for her eternal peace?

"I know this is late but I haven't asked you about your family," Ichigo said when they began walking back. "What happened to your parents?"

Startled by the question, her steps faltered. Ichigo raised a hand to help her but Orihime recovered her footing rather quickly albeit clumsily. Eyes wide in shock, she looked up to him, looking lost.

"Orihime?" Ichigo asked, reaching a hand to her. It hovered in midair, hesitant, and then he pulled it back, curling it into a fist.

"According to your files, you're an orphan. Is it true?"

She opened her mouth, but closed it again, and then she bit her lower lip before answering. "I don't know my parents. My brother took me away as a baby."

Ichigo frowned. "Why?"

"…I'm not sure. I didn't ask," she answered quietly, sounding far away.

"Are they still alive?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "I suppose."

He must have noticed her discomfort for he kept silent for a while before asking another question. "What about your brother?"

Orihime lowered her eyes to avoid his gaze. She was a terrible liar, Tatsuki always told her. She said her face was too open, making it easy to read her.

"He works for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. He's always travelling." This was not a lie, but it was not entirely true either. Orihime felt something inside her turn hard and cold.

Her brother worked for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs for years. She was thirteen when Sora received a promotion. His work became solely related to constant traveling outside Dainipponteikoku. He traveled regularly from country to country and since then, he had never come home. They regularly communicated thru emails and video chats. Their communication, however, became scarce during the fourth year – she was seventeen. Then she turned nineteen and he never contacted her again.

He disappeared. Like a plume of smoke vanishing into thin air. No trace.

"He didn't attend our wedding."

"H-He's very busy," she replied, her voice soft. Deep inside her, she felt the something hard and cold turn harder and colder at this lie.

In silence, they continued walking until they entered a building. Ichigo led her to the room where Yoruichi was waiting, observing an ukiyo-e print.

Unable to endure the uncomfortable tension much longer, Orihime moved forward to greet Yoruichi. But Ichigo stepped in her way, blocking her view with his chest and effectively rendering her immobile. Her eyes darted upward in surprise, only to drop to his chest to avoid his burning gaze.

A strip of naked flesh where his collar had gaped open caught her eye. Fascinated, she followed this strip of skin with her wide eyes, tracing the strong column of his throat, the curve of his lips, and finally his smoldering eyes. Their eyes met and her mouth went dry. Her breathing fractured upon realizing his closeness. He was standing so close that she felt like she was being engulfed by the massive wave of heat radiating off his body. The familiar heat reminded her of _that_ night_, _causing her to squirm and her face to redden.

"Yoruichi-san will escort you home. I'll be late so don't wait up."

She blinked, dumbfounded. Orihime flushed deep red. "You noticed?" she whispered.

He looked her in the eye. "Don't be embarrassed," he murmured. Then his gaze fell on her lips.

Orihime swallowed and licked at her dry lips. A vague emotion she could not place flitted across Ichigo's eyes, darkening them. They were half-lidded, looking at her mouth, watching her worry her bottom lip. His jaw clenched, his eyes glittering with something dangerous and forbidden.

Standing a few feet away from them, Yoruichi rolled her eyes with a snort. The small noise seemed to snap Ichigo out of his heated daze. He glanced over his shoulder at Yoruichi, narrowing his eyes. Unabashed, the woman grinned.

Ichigo scowled in reply, shaking his head, and walked toward the door behind Orihime. As he passed her, their hands brushed against each other. That fleeting, electric moment. Ichigo stopped abruptly while Orihime stiffened, a tingle running down her spine, causing her toes to curl. Standing shoulder to shoulder, both were stock still, as if the moment had caught them.

A clock ticked somewhere. Two, three, four, five.

Without another word, Ichigo left the room.

When the sound of his footsteps disappeared, Orihime finally let out a shaky sigh, pressing a palm to her chest where her heart was. She was panting, her face hot; even her ears burned.

"Ah, young love," Yoruichi teased, grinning. Orihime's face turned a shade deeper than crimson, something that should not have been possible. "You two need to resolve your issues. I could stir the sexual tension between the two of you with a spoon. When was the last time you two had sex?"

"Y-Yo-Yoruichi-san!" she cried, covering her face.

:

July, now.

On the day Vega and Altair are allowed to meet, Orihime found out that time can dull things.

She never forgot the plan she made with The Boss. However, she, like any other woman with a healthy amount of hormones who happened to be married to a very handsome man, was susceptible to distractions.

Furthermore her growing feelings of affection and attraction to her husband were not helping.

So at times, when she found herself feeling something more, something beyond physical attraction, slipping into feelings of contentment — laughing as she watched Ichigo scowl and bicker with his father whenever they visit the Emperor; listening to his gruff, sometimes almost-soft voice; smiling at him whenever he looked at her; laughing with Rangiku and Hinamori; paying attention to Nanao's lectures — she had to press a hand to her chest to repress the burst of unfamiliar emotions.

Ignore it, forget it, discard it— these, she told herself. She had to consciously remind herself of the 'plan'. And this hurt a lot more than she would ever care to admit. Because it's one thing to hope for a fragment of happiness and another to have it entirely within her grasp. And yet she knew she cannot simply reach out and take it.

"Orihime."

His voice. Her heart clenched in a way that was both painful and sweet. Bittersweet longing filled her. She gave herself a hard shake. He was not here. How far was Praga from Dainipponteikoku? She had no idea; all she knew was the ache brought about by the distance between them.

Long, warm fingers wrapped themselves around her elbow.

"This isn't the right time to daydream."

_That_, Orihime frowned, _that sounded so… real_, she thought as she sighed dreamily, still lost in her thoughts.

"Orihime." Her heart skipped a beat. It was just an imagination and yet the effects were—

A large hand cupped her cheek and turned her face to the right.

Amber-brown eyes stared intensely into hers. "Are you all right? You're not sick, are you?"

Those eyes, the intensity, they looked too real.

"Ichigo-kun?"

He was supposed to be in Praga, attending a two-day global summit, and she, attending a large-scale festival on her own.

Ichigo raised an eyebrow at her. "Why do you look surprised?" He released her face and stared at her closely.

"Wh-When did you arrive?" Her question came out as breathless.

He did not answer right away, looking at her, as though searching her face, her eyes.

Then, "Two hours ago." And he looked forward, to the crowd.

Orihime's eyes widened. "And you came straight here?" He nodded, and a worried frown creased her brow. "But you're supposed to be resting…"

"It's fine. This is not the first time I've done something like this." He looked at her then, and Orihime tried not to smile so much, tried to repress and ignore the nagging feeling of so, so much happiness— but this _is _Orihime, always true, always honest, her face open to the world. So she could not help but smile as though she had seen something utterly beautiful.

His grip on her arm tightened. The pressure of his touch was an assurance, like a promise.

"But the flashes from the cameras are dizzying," he later confessed with a grunt, looking annoyed.

Her eyebrows drew together in worry. "Are you okay? You can leave if you want. I don't mind. Yoruichi-san and Hisagi-san are here. I'll be fine."

"No." Ichigo took her hand, making her blush. "I won't leave you."

For a second, she was stunned and she, she was slipping deeply, deeply, _deeply _into pure happiness, a transparent feeling that took a total hold of her whole being.

She smiled at him. "Thank you, Ichigo-kun."

_Stars are shining, _

_Like fine gold and silver sand._

:

Orihime woke to the alarm-clock-radio playing the chorus of a French song. She craned her head to look at the time. Seven A.M., the 15th of July.

Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes and looked around sleepily. Her gaze fixated on a table where a box sat upon. Smiling slightly, Orihime slid off the bed, her nightgown falling to her ankles.

Showered, in a yellow dress, and her long hair in a loose bun at the side of her head, Orihime headed out, working up enough courage to approach Ichigo and greet him a happy birthday without stuttering. Whenever she got nervous, her words turned into incomprehensible jumble.

In a corridor, she met Hinamori. "Good morning! Have you seen my husband? Is he in the dining room?"

"He's about to leave now. He has an early appointment and he would not be able to join you for breakfast."

"Oh, I see…" Orihime mumbled, her expression turning somewhat disappointed. But if she hurried, she'll catch up with him and wish him, hopefully without blushing so much, a happy birthday.

Despite her feminine frame, Orihime was a fast runner with good endurance. She came down the staircase of the front hall. The front doors were opened. Out front, Ichigo was standing by an opened car door and conversing with his chamberlain, the younger Ishida.

"Ichigo-kun!" Orihime called out breathlessly.

Heads turned to her. With a frown, Ichigo approached her quickly, looking bewildered. "What's wrong?" he asked, reaching over to lay a hand on her shoulder.

"O-Oh, it's nothing!" she assured him, still catching her breath. "I-I'm sorry. I was told you're in a hurry and—"

"It's all right. What is it?"

Remembering her objective, Orihime turned a deeper shade of red.

"Orihime?"

"I-I just want to—"

"Sir," Ishida interrupted. "If we don't depart in ten minutes, you'll be late."

"Give us five minutes, then," Ichigo grunted, eyebrows furrowing at the interruption. Ishida nodded and stepped away. He returned his gaze on her. "Did you forget to brush your hair?" asked he with a small amused smile.

Orihime gasped, one of her hands flying to her hair, and found them loose and tangled around her shoulders. Her blush deepened, feeling very self-conscious. "Oh! I-I'm sorry! I-I'm such a mess and—"

"Don't worry about it." Ichigo tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers sifted through her long hair before letting them go. "I'm sorry but I need to be on time for my meeting. What is it that you need to tell me?"

"Oh, right!" Steeling her nerves, she smiled up at him broadly. "Happy birthday." Ichigo stared, clearly surprised. Apparently, this was not what he had expected. Orihime fidgeted, looking down, her hair cascading forward.

"I know it's not very important but I—"

"Thank you." Ichigo reached forward to squeeze her shoulder. Orihime started and lifted her head. His hand slid down her arm and took her hand. They were simple words of gratitude, his taking her hand, a simple gesture. But they were _enough_.

"Do you have any plans for today?" she asked, eyes flickering down to stare at their hands.

"I have plenty of businesses to attend to. I can't afford to delay them."

"I hope you'll be able to celebrate your birthday without working too much."

"It's all right. I'm used to it." Ichigo glanced over his shoulder at Ishida who respectfully gave them some privacy before looking at her again. "I have to go, Orihime." He seemed to hesitate, and then added, "I'll be around for dinner."

Orihime cocked her head to the side. "Oh, that would be great!" She beamed. "Have a nice day, Ichigo-kun. Please don't work too hard on your special day, okay? Just for today, slow down." The corner of his mouth quirked up a little in a smile before he dropped her hand.

"I'll try."

Later, Orihime stood by a window. Outside, the sky was cloudless, blue all over. Behind her, Nanao was organizing her things on the table. She called her over and started her lecture. Orihime did not think of anything else until ten in the morning, when she returned upstairs and spotted a familiar box in a red wrapper and white ribbon.

When she returned to the library to seek her mentor, she asked Nanao if she could go to Ichigo's office. Nanao watched her intently, and then closed the book she was reading.

"I'll send a word to your guards."

:

The Office of The Crown Prince was located at the 32nd floor of a forty-eight stories building which split into two towers at the 33rd floor. This design was meant to resemble a computer chip.

Ichigo's office covered the entire 32nd floor. On the white walls were paintings. Monochrome, landscapes, in sepias. The ceilings were twenty-foot high and the ceiling-to-floor bulletproof windows provided a panoramic view of the city. The floor also contained a library, smaller offices, a bar area, and lounges.

They stopped in front of a set of wooden doors. Embossed on each door was the Kurosaki family crest, a roundel encircling a lotus flower. Hisagi swung them open and moved aside to let Orihime through. The high-backed chair behind the black desk was empty. At the front desk, a woman had had informed her that Ichigo had left, but will be back in twenty minutes or more.

After having adjusted her eyesight to the afternoon light that spilled through the large windows behind the desk, Orihime finally took notice of the open space before her. Like in the corridors outside, the ceiling was high. The walls were bare with wood paneling. A 55-inch TV screen was mounted on a wall.

Apart from the desk and leather chair, there was no other furniture present. On his desk was a laptop, a lotus shaped-glass piece on the corner, a neat stack of folders, and a small tray of pencils and pens. There were no framed photographs, calendar or a telephone.

Before Hisagi left, he switched on the TV. Now alone, Orihime became more conscious of the huge space. Nothing seemed to indicate that a person spent all of his day here. Something about the extra spaces here and there made her feel sad. Not for herself or for Ichigo, but for the things trapped inside this room. Small rooms were what she liked more, with all its simple necessities, the smallest spaces, the little corners.

This room needed a potted plant in the corner or a small bowl of goldfish. Anything with color would suffice to add life to this room.

As Orihime circled his desk, trailing a small hand over the edge of the table, a thin, rectangular box caught her attention. Tied to a white ribbon was a small card. Her curiosity was piqued, very much so, like an itch that needed to be scratched. Caving in, she bent over to peer closer and read the elegant scrawl written in black ink:

_Happy birthday, Ichigo_

_Rukia_

Uncertainty tugged at her as she glanced at her own gift. Will he like it? Was it the right size? Did she pick the right color?

Shaking these thoughts away, Orihime distracted herself from the uncomfortable emotions swirling inside her by turning her attention to the TV screen. It was tuned into a twenty-four hours news channel. The news anchor was emphasizing that the video they were about to show was live.

The video loaded up, and Orihime stiffened. The air, all of a sudden, was thin and impossible to inhale.

The video showed Ichigo having lunch with Kuchiki Rukia. It seemed that the camera filming them was several feet away, apparently trying to appear inconspicuous from the two people in the video. Clicking sounds and muttering filled the background. But Orihime did not notice; her attention was fixed on the two people.

"_Do you have plans for today?"_

"_I have plenty of businesses to attend to. I can't afford to delay them."_

Kuchiki Rukia was pointing to the circular cake, speaking. In reply, Ichigo shook his head, but seconds later, he conceded and blew the candles. The dark-haired woman smiled in satisfaction and the two of them talked.

The video was replayed and Orihime turned away, puzzled at her reaction. She took a quick look at the screen, as though she were afraid of what she might see, and there it was again, _that_ prickling feeling that constricted her chest, making breathing painful.

Outside, standing on either side of the doors, the guards snapped to attention when a door swung outward and the Crown Princess stepped out.

Upon seeing her, Hisagi immediately arrived to her side.

"I forgot I have to be back before two o'clock."

If he noticed her distress, Hisagi did not show it. "Yes, ma'am. Right this way."

The ride back to the palace did not take an hour but Orihime felt exhausted as though something heavy were pressing down on her. Normally, it would take an enormous amount of stress, both physical and emotional, to distress her.

Much to Hinamori's surprise, Orihime decided to retire early. This worried Hinamori for the Crown Princess never skipped dinner no matter how tired she was. The sight of food and the prospect of creating unique concoctions always rejuvenated her.

"Is there something wrong?" asked Hinamori worriedly. Since her arrival from her trip, Orihime had been quiet. It was unsettling.

Orihime blinked and lifted her head. When she saw the look Hinamori was giving her, she smiled kindly. "I'm just tired, don't worry about me. I'll get in bed, dream about food and the next morning, I'll feel much better!"

:

After shutting the door behind her, Orihime leaned against it for a moment before walking to a sitting room. Removing her shoes, she paced the carpeted floor, twisting her hands, looking for something to do. She needed to do something, focus on something to get her mind off _other _things.

Unfortunately, as she turned, facing the TV set, she froze and recalled what she saw a few hours ago in Ichigo's office; the news and what was featured.

The dull heaviness that cropped up hard in her chest nearly overcame her. She had no reason or right to be upset. So what if Ichigo spent his birthday with another woman? What of it? It did not really matter. While it was true they were married, theirs was not a marriage of hearts. He was free to spend time with whoever he wanted.

And yet she felt betrayed, hurt even.

This unnamed affliction, unfortunately, was keen enough to dampen her spirits and appetite. Never had she allowed things to let her down. In spite of every hardship she had had, she always did her best to live as happily as she could and cope with every difficulty with optimism and little craziness. (Tatsuki often told her she was "a little crazy, but it's okay. Yours is a good type of crazy. Only you could perfectly recite twenty seven poems from Man'yoshu while juggling three loaves of bread. Now that's really _cool_. And a bit crazy.")

But _this_ one— it was weird and affected her in a different, deeply disconcerting way. Most of all, it drove her half-mad to try to figure out what _exactly_ she felt. Could all of this really have been caused by witnessing her husband spend his day with another woman?

Orihime pinched both of her cheeks.

"No more gloom!" She squished her cheeks together, making an odd facial expression.

Blowing out a long breath, she flunked down on the sofa. Through the thick red hair falling over her face haphazardly, she gazed at the space before her, struggling to grasp her true feelings.

:

Roughly fifteen minutes after Orihime went upstairs, the convoy carrying Ichigo pulled up at the covered entranceway. He went straight to the dining hall, expecting to see his wife. However, when he got there, the room was empty. Ishida called for an attendant.

"Where's my wife?" Ichigo demanded.

"She is upstairs, sir."

His frown deepened into a scowl. "It's only seven in the evening. She is supposed to be having dinner. Where is Hinamori?" The last sentence became a thundering command, sending the employee into a panic and hurry to find the said lady.

Before long, Hinamori appeared and Ichigo turned to face her, cutting off her greeting curtly. "Did something happen? We—" He paused abruptly, clenched his jaw, and glared at the empty table.

When he looked at Hinamori again, his expression had returned to its aloof scowling. "She finished her dinner quite early," he said instead in a calm, cold voice.

Hinamori gave small shake of her head. "She skipped dinner, sir."

Ishida watched a vague look come over Ichigo's face. Then another look, an emotion he had never seen, darkened Ichigo's eyes and hardened his face. It was gone before Ishida could interpret it.

Without another word, the Crown Prince headed off upstairs. Hinamori worriedly expressed her confusion over the turn of events. Ishida and Sado, on the other hand, exchanged glances and said nothing.

:

Their bedroom was empty, as well as the main sitting room.

As Ichigo stood in a hallway, his coat and tie gone, the long sleeves of his shirt rolled up above his elbows, a subtle noise caught his attention. He listened carefully to gauge its origin. It was coming from the smaller lounge.

Stopping in the doorway, he peered inside. The television was on, a news program, showing two persons in a chic restaurant; he was blowing the candles on the small cake while Rukia smiled from across the table.

Watching from the sofa was his wife. She was lying on her side, a foot resting on the armrest. Her position had caused her blue skirt to ride up, revealing her pale legs.

The program cut to a commercial. She flipped through several television shows, lingered on a cooking show, then a documentary, and idled through more channels before sitting up and turning off the television.

Brushing her hair from her face, she got to her feet and turned toward the door. Upon seeing him standing in the doorway, she gasped.

"Ichigo-kun," she stammered when she recovered from surprise.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he regarded her. "You didn't eat dinner."

A look of surprise passed over her face before her features arranged themselves in a somewhat forced cheerful expression. "I-I'm not hungry and I'm really sleepy so I…" She trailed off, eyes flickering down to look away from him.

Turning her face away, a sheet of her hair partially hid her face. Orihime lifted a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear.

"You're early."

Ichigo's eyebrows drew together at the abrupt change of topic. His frown turned into confusion when he noticed the hint of nervousness in her movements as she ambled near the doorway where he hovered.

"I told you, didn't I?"

Stopping, she looked at him with her wide caramel eyes, puzzled.

Ichigo ran a hand through his rumpled hair, making it messier. "I said I'll be around dinner." Her look of confusion prompted him to carefully further elaborate. "We're supposed to have dinner _together_."

Her mouth formed a surprised 'o'.

"But…" She looked down at her bare feet, pink coloring appearing gradually on her face. "I'm not hungry," she whispered. But her stomach chose that exact moment to produce a loud, telltale rumble.

"You're not a good liar, either," Ichigo said with a small grin.

Orihime turned red until she looked completely flushed.

He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. "Thanks for the sweater. It's too early to use it but it's going to be useful later this year." His voice fell quiet. "You should have waited for me."

Their eyes met for what felt like the longest time. Her lips moved to form words, perhaps another excuse, but she said nothing. Her small hands gripped her skirt while shifting her weight from one foot to another. She had lowered her eyes, her lashes hiding her thoughts.

This frustrated and fascinated Ichigo at the same time. Frustrating, because he wanted to know what went on inside her head; fascinating, because her shy innocence was something refreshing to encounter. He was accustomed to ladies with faked coyness. To witness such artlessness was quite mesmerizing.

"I didn't want to disturb you." Orihime explained. And then she smiled a sort of smile she wore whenever she seemed pleased and self-conscious at the same time. "I'm glad you like the sweater! I don't know your size so I used one of your coats as a reference."

Another effort, it seemed, to change the subject.

"I was really worried at first but now, I'm very happy." This time, she gave him a real huge smile. "But," she glanced upward, biting her bottom lip as she pondered, "I wish I could've given you something more special. But I can't think of what else to give, something you'd really like."

"There is one thing you can give me as a bonus," he murmured.

Orihime blinked at him. "What is it?"

He stepped closer to her until they were chest to chest. Eyes wide, Orihime staggered backward but he caught her around her waist, pulling her against him.

"I'll consider this an extra gift," he whispered, his breath touching her lips. He felt her shudder as he ran his hand down her back. Orihime gazed up at him, looking even more bewildered.

Then there was silence, madness, and his heart beating against hers.

:

Her imaginary walls were crumbling, and suddenly she was naked of everything.

Her heart was beating violently, and she was certain he could feel it.

One of his hands cupped her cheek, tilting her head up to kiss her more. There was a touch of hunger in his caress, a passion restrained by tenderness. Shyly, but needing to get closer, Orihime pressed up harder against him, brushing her breasts against his chest.

With him, she discovered another layer of her, as someone who was capable of fierce passion and desire, consumed by a hunger so strong it ate her up. What stunned her more was the realization that for a while now, she had been nursing these feelings. She could not remember how and when it began, but it was there, getting out of control.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, a voice was telling her, warning her: this is dangerous, very, very dangerous.

And yet, here she was, returning his kisses with eagerness. In every stroke of his tongue against hers, she felt sparks danced along her nerves and around the burning knot in her lower belly. It made the area between her thighs throb and burn with fierce craving.

Ichigo shoved a hand inside her blouse and traced her spine. The heat of his fingers on her bare skin caused a jolt to run through her body. As their kisses grew more heated, a thick fog began to cloud her mind, disintegrating her rational thoughts into chips and pieces.

A small part of her fought for control, but the callused hand trailing her back palmed her bottom and pulled her forward against something hard.

A new heat rushed to her face as soon Orihime realized what exactly it was. At once, her body responded to his arousal, her thin fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer to her body, grinding against him and almost melting on the spot at the electric sensation it created.

Their lips parted slightly, giving her a chance to collect her thoughts and catch her breath. Orihime's long lashes fluttered shyly. Heavy-lidded amber eyes met hers, the intensity of their gaze making her knees weak.

"I-Ichigo…"

A dark emotion stirred in his eyes. He took her mouth again in a hard kiss. His hand grasped her breast firmly, making her whimper against his demanding lips. She could feel wild, heated energy beat furiously under his hot skin, through his muscles. His lips brushed her warm cheek, jaw and ear before dipping low, pressing hard kisses to the side of her moist neck, where her pulse paused and lifted. His breath was hot and wet against her skin. All of a sudden, Ichigo sank his teeth into her skin gently, sucking on her skin, marking her, making her moan.

Boldly, Orihime pulled his head from her neck to kiss him. His mouth opened and her tongue swept in. He groaned against her mouth, and the hand on her breast trailed up to grasp the hair on her nape, deepening the kiss as though he was trying to imprint himself in her.

He walked her backward until her back touched a wall. She tugged at the front of his shirt as she pressed her lips to his forcefully. Ichigo reciprocated the movement, pressing harder against her between her legs. She tore her mouth from him, squirming as she panted, heart tripping at the feel of his hard length pressing against her lower belly.

Orihime opened her eyes slowly. Their eyes met with a strange impact. For a heavy moment, they stared at each other, neither blinking. Something passed between them at that moment. Neither was aware of this, both were more conscious of the physical attraction pulling them together.

Small hands slid up to the sides of his face to cup Ichigo's cheeks. Her lips curved as a warm glow spread from her heart to every limb when his lips tugged upwards in a small smile.

Ichigo lowered his head and kissed her, gently and lightly at first until it turned thorough and hungry but still very tender. It made Orihime smile, how gentle he kissed her now.

One of his hands reached down to slip under her skirt, caressing her thigh. His touch slowly went higher under her skirt. Ichigo pulled back to watch her reaction.

As expected, she blushed under his intense stare and bit her swollen lip, her heart rate at high speed. Finally, he cupped her between her thighs. Orihime jerked and gasped, her hazel eyes opening wider. She clutched at his shirt, hips moving against his hand, clumsy in their effort. Her back bowed when his index finger traced the outline of her wet folds through the damp cloth, his fingers thorough but slow and teasing, frustrating her.

The air felt thicker and boiling, difficult to breathe in. She could feel the strain of his muscles underneath her palms. In ragged breaths, she pulled one gasping gulp of air after another, trembling against him. His hand still on her thigh, Ichigo nudged her legs apart. She could feel his hot, quick breathing on her face.

Panting, she lifted her head, meeting his eyes. Her heart tripped at the hunger staring back at her.

"I need to touch you," he growled. The sound of his low, raspy voice caused a shudder to run down her spine.

Without waiting for her response, his fingers slipped under the edge of her panties. Orihime's breath caught at the searing contact. They probed lightly and then latch on the small, hardening nub of flesh and nerves, pinching and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Gasps and soft moans spilled from her mouth, her small hands gripping his biceps tightly.

With a soft caress, Ichigo inserted a finger into her warm, wet center. Orihime stilled for a second before a fractured moan rushed from her trembling lips, her eyes rolling in the back of her head.

Another finger joined the first. Her small toes curled in pleasure, small, gasping noises escaping her swollen lips.

"Fuck," Ichigo hissed between clenched teeth. He caught her mouth in a kiss and tugged her bottom lip with his teeth sharply.

Heat surged in her lower belly, coiling tightly into a knot, nearly overcoming her. The pace of his thrusting fingers increased. Similarly, her hips rose and fell faster, matching his swiftness, taking everything he was giving her.

Ichigo released her bruised lip and held her hip. Orihime squeezed her eyes shut, chest heaving as she struggled to contain the embarrassing sounds in the back of her throat. Her mind steadily grew fuzzy as his long fingers curved inside her while his thumb continued to put pressure on the swollen nub at the apex of her sex.

Her face contorted as she tried to focus but she was lost, too lost, in the throes of burning passion. Through the heated daze, she found his mouth and kissed him.

_So close._

_Please._

Her senses felt like on a verge of falling apart at the seams. Feeling as though she'd fall and drown, one of her hands moved to grasp at his hair, pulling at the spikes.

Groaning in her mouth, Ichigo forced his fingers deeper, rubbing harder, touching that special spot inside her, making her scream a little.

In a ragged breath, he whispered her name against her lips, as though it was a taste on his tongue.

The effect was instantaneous.

Pleasure tore through her with a force of a wave. She gasped and moaned, the sound grazing his lips. Sweet, addictive. His fingers continued their merciless pace, his thumb rubbing her clit firmly, prolonging the pleasure. Orihime clung to him, trembling. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead, and several strands of hair stuck to her flushed, damp cheeks.

A minute dragged by before Orihime could move. The area between her legs was still pulsing with tiny aftershocks. She sucked in a breath when he slowly pulled his fingers from her wet heat.

To her surprise, he pressed another long kiss to her lips. Orihime framed his face with both of her hands as they kissed. She liked touching his face, memorizing every bone, every curve. Her palms moved down to caress his neck as his lips moved over her forehead.

Something inside Orihime turned soft and warm when he kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes and pressed her face to his neck again, taking in his scent. Clean, a hint of fabric conditioner, shampoo, and something uniquely _Ichigo._

Unlike her calm self, Ichigo was breathing harshly. His whole body was still rigid, as tense as tightly coiled spring. But his voice was gentle when he asked, "Would you like to have dinner with me?"

Looking up from his neck, she smiled broadly. "I'd love to."

The corner of his mouth lifted up in a half-smile. He licked the edge of his upper lip with the tip of his tongue and the brief glimpse of it caused her heart to trip in her chest. She swallowed and blushed.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. When he opened them, his gaze was hard, almost predatory. His voice was still soft, though.

"Fix yourself. I'll wait for you downstairs."

Shyly, Orihime responded with a weak nod, avoiding his eyes. Certain she could stand on her own, Ichigo stepped back. Still feeling drained, she leaned heavily against the wall behind her, fixing her disheveled skirt. As she watched him, she noticed that he was clenching his hands as though he were in pain, his narrowed eyes watching her intensely. Something in his dark gaze sent a lance of pleasure through her. Perhaps it was in the way he looked at her, or a bit of satisfaction at being able to inspire such a heated reaction from him.

One of his hands moved as if to touch her, but he seemed to change his mind at the last minute and his hand curled into a fist and returned to his side. Blowing out a harsh breath, Ichigo turned to leave, his steps heavy, his breathing heavier.

Left to stare at the space before her, Orihime was still stunned and winded from the force of her sexual release. Embarrassedly, her body was still throbbing with need. Her heartbeat was loud inside her head.

After hastily fixing her disheveled appearance, she went to their room and changed into a new set of clothes. There were some difficulties in decreasing the flush on her face, though.

Finished, she smiled at her reflection. She felt and looked happy, refreshed. Whatever afflicted her for the whole afternoon had faded completely. In its place was a warm glow of genuine happiness. With one last smile, she hurried out of the room.

:

(off with his head!

off with his

off with

off

…)

* * *

><p><strong>notes.<strong>

(1) The building's exterior is based on _Tokyo Metropolitan Main Building No. 1_

(2) '_Stars are shining, like fine gold and silver sand' _- last line of Tanabata song (translations may vary depending on the source)

(3) _'Be kind, Orihime, be kind because each and every person is fighting a hard battle._'Original text: _"Be pitiful, for every man is fighting a hard battle"_ by Ian Maclaren

(4) Man'yoshu – a collection of poetry


	9. birthday girl

**godsend** **  
><strong>birthday girl **  
><strong>

:

Eyes narrowed behind oval-shaped glasses, Nanao thumped the table with her knuckles. However, Orihime remained lost in thought, her brown eyes trained on something over the bookshelves.

Nanao hit the table again, louder and harder than the last. Orihime straightened so quickly in her seat that her knees hit the bottom of the table.

"Is something wrong?" asked Orihime innocently.

The older woman adjusted her eyeglasses with practiced ease. "You're slacking off, Your Highness, that's what's wrong."

Orihime's face turned pink in embarrassment. Giving a timid smile as an apology, she stammered, "I-It won't happen again."

"Is there something bothering you? While it is true that you tend to have an overly active imagination, you are never neglectful of your studies. I can tell that something is troubling you."

"O-Oh, I… I…"

Just thinking about telling Nanao _what_ she was thinking about made her face color even more as if her skin were on fire.

"The-There's nothing w-wrong! Everything's perfect!" Flailing her arms in panic when Nanao merely raised an eyebrow at her, she went on, "I-I'm fine, Nanao-san, thank you. It's just me being awfully scatterbrained today. I'm sorry."

After that, Orihime vowed inwardly to focus completely in her task and not to think about anything else. Propping up the book in front of her, she was determined to concentrate on understanding long texts, but her efforts were futile. Her thoughts were scattered and in the center of this messy convolution was Kurosaki Ichigo.

As if on cue, an image projected itself inside her head. Every detail was clear; his eyes, his mouth, his touch, his scent, his lips, his— Her face grew thinking about how he touched and kissed her and how wanton her reactions were was enough to make her permanently red.

Deeply mortified at the thoughts she was having, she fought the urge to rub her eyes as though it will help banish the memories from her mind. The sound of Nanao clearing her throat brought her back to the present.

_Concentrate, Orihime! _She had to stay task-oriented. There was plenty of time for fantasizing later.

Later, engrossed in her reading, she did not hear Ishida enter and address her. He had to announce himself twice and clear his throat several times before Orihime finally noticed his presence.

Her mouth hung open in surprise at Ishida's announcement.

"His Majesty… is here?"

"Yes. He wishes to speak with you."

With a nod, Orihime hastily moved to follow.

At the end of a corridor, Ishida opened a set of doors for her.

After thanking him, Orihime stepped inside the square room. The Emperor was not alone in waiting. There, sitting across from the Emperor and looking infuriated, was her husband.

The two men were in the middle of a conversation, and it seemed only the elder Kurosaki enjoyed the discussion, making cheerful gesticulations while Ichigo looked on, annoyed. Upon noticing another presence in the room, his half-lidded eyes slid over to her to stare unabashedly, causing pink coloring to gradually blossom in her cheeks.

Noticing his son's inattention, the Emperor looked over his shoulder to see what captured Ichigo's interest.

"Orihime-chaaan!" The elder Kurosaki leapt to his feet, gesturing to her with both hands to come closer. When she was within arm's length distance, he engulfed her in a bear hug, causing Orihime to squeak in surprise.

Ichigo jumped to his feet. "Oi, knock it off! You're going to crush her!" The Emperor, however, refused to let go. One of Ichigo's hands fastened hard on his father's shoulder and tore him off of Orihime.

"How very selfish, my boy!"

"You were going to break her neck or something! She's not as strong as you!" Ichigo bellowed.

"But I've missed her!" the Emperor insisted with an exaggerated pout. Ichigo glowered at his father before turning to face Orihime.

"Are you all right?"

"Y-Yes!"

His scowl deepened. "Are you sure?" He put a hand on her shoulder.

With a soft laugh, she patted his arm gently. "I'm fine, really. Thank you."

"You look lovely as always!" the Emperor exclaimed. Orihime turned red, smiling shyly. Ichigo, on the other hand, looked constipated. Ignoring his son's glare, he sat down and patted the space next to him. "Join us! This impertinent son of mine is such a boring conversationalist! Now," he went on as soon as Orihime was settled, "How do you want to celebrate your birthday, Orihime-chan?"

"Oh! M-My birthday…?"

The Emperor raised an eyebrow. "Did you forget your own birthday?"

Orihime rubbed the back of her head, smiling the sort of smile as a person who felt embarrassed after saying something silly. "N-No, I'm just surprised. I didn't notice that—"

"Oh, my poor little girl!" He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her hard against his chest. "You've been working too much that you almost forgot your birthday, haven't you, Orihime-chan! This is unacceptable! This is—"

"Shut up. And get your hands off of her. You're making her uncomfortable."

In reply, the Emperor grinned toothily, deliberately squeezing Orihime's shoulder.

"Make me."

Orihime caught the fierce smirk on Ichigo's face before he lunged forward, so fast his movement appeared like a blur to her. In a second, he was already in front of his father.

"Ow!" The elder man's head snapped back and later, he was lifted off of the sofa.

Stunned, Orihime watched the two men exchange blows. Her eyes widened in shock when Ichigo got knocked to the ground by a tackle. She got to her feet.

"P-Please don't fight! Ichigo-kun! Your Majesty!"

With a growl, Ichigo leapt back to his feet, elbowed his father on the stomach and slammed him down on the floor. Orihime let out a gasp, horrified.

"Ichigo-kun, don't hurt him! He's—"

Ichigo straightened up, rotating his shoulder, still glaring at his wheezing father. "He's faking it."

"B-But…"

"Congratulations, Ichigo… You've become a man," Ichigo's father mumbled, still facedown on the floor.

Ichigo sneered. "Shut up. Be thankful I didn't hit you_ hard_." He caught Orihime's arm as she hurried over his father. She looked up at him. "He's fine," he muttered, and pushed her toward the sofa he previously occupied. He took a seat next to her, folding his arms in front of his chest while fixing his prone father with a glare.

"A-Are you all right, Your Majesty?" asked Orihime worriedly.

Ichigo's father was on his feet in an instant. "Don't worry about me, Orihime-chan! Unlike my insolent son, Daddy is a man of steel!" To emphasize his point, he thumped his puffed-out chest proudly with both fists. Ichigo huffed, gritting his teeth.

"Anyway, what do you think of celebrating your birthday with your short-tempered, scowling, sullen husband?"

Orihime stiffened, mouth hanging open in surprise. "Ichigo-kun and…"

Her blushing face made the Emperor laugh boisterously. "Just the two of you, I'm afraid. But I don't trust my son! He might do very scandalous things like touching your—_oomph!_" A throw pillow had flown over and hit him in the face, cutting him off.

She pouted, turning to Ichigo. "That's not nice."

"He's about to say something stupid," Ichigo growled. He turned narrowed eyes to his grinning father. "Get to the point, old man."

The older Kurosaki flashed them a wide, _loud _– how his father managed to make a grin _loud,_ Ichigo would never know and he did not intend to find out –incredibly annoying grin. "I know it's too early to give you a birthday present, considering it's still August, but it doesn't matter!" He paused to breathe. "My birthday gift for Orihime-chan is a three-day and two-night vacation from her duties! You deserve some days off, dear. But I feel sorry for you!"

The Emperor gave an exaggerated shake of his head, face pinched.

"He's so boring and an unpleasant party pooper! But," his eyebrows wiggled suggestively as he pointed out, "You two haven't had a proper honeymoon. This is the perfect time to do the mattress mambo—_oomph!_"

"I swear," Ichigo snarled and pulled back his arm after chucking another throw pillow at his father. "One more stupid word and I'll make sure to remove your front teeth!"

His father easily recovered. "Why are you so shy, oh son of mine? Have you forgotten about what I've told you about the miracles of—"

"I said shut _it_!" Ichigo stood, grabbing his startled wife's hand and tugging her to her feet. "We're leaving. And don't follow us!"

"But—"

"In case you've forgotten, this is _my_ territory." Ichigo grinned fiercely, a nerve throbbing above his eyebrow. "I can kick you out of _my_ house anytime I want!"

"So cruel! Ooh, Masaki, what have I done to be treated like this by our only son!" Ichigo shut the door behind them with loud bang.

:

Orihime felt that the end of August came too fast. She was half-excited and half-nervous, looking forward to the trip and, at the same, dreading it. Rangiku's suggestive comments did not help. They only made her feel more flustered and keyed up than ever.

The morning of their trip came with a bright dawn, September 2nd. Around two in the afternoon, the couple got into a pickup truck, a bright red Mitsubishi Triton. They exited the driveway, drove through the city streets, and then got on a highway.

As much as the idea of spending a short vacation with Ichigo thrilled her, the fact that they were going to be on their own without his Guards' protection worried Orihime. Ichigo, on the other hand, looked relaxed as he drove, giving her a feeling that he often went out like this, without protection from Imperial Guard.

"Ichigo-kun?"

Ichigo favored Orihime with a sideways glance.

"Is it really okay that we go without your bodyguards?"

"Yeah. Besides, they'll only attract unwanted attention. Chad's not very adept in blending in with the crowd."

The pickup, despite its size, changed lanes smoothly, slipping between cars effortlessly. Ichigo shifted gears with ease, the engines giving a gentle hum. They zoomed past a Subaru, swerved back to their previous lane, and Ichigo reduced their speed to a pace that was not too fast or too slow.

"What are you worried about?" asked Ichigo after a while.

Fidgeting with the seatbelt, she answered, "You should not be left alone."

"I'm not alone. You're with me. Do you not feel safe with me?"

Orihime stiffened and twisted her body towards him. "Oh! I-I don't mean it that way. It's just—" She bit her lip. "I'm worried."

"Don't be. I will not let anything happen to you."

"I'm more worried about _you_," she insisted. "Sado-kun is not with us and I'm not strong enough to protect you."

Scowling, he spared her another quick glance. "You don't have to protect me. _I _will protect you. Not the other way around."

Orihime shook her head firmly. "No." With an eyebrow raised, Ichigo glanced at her before focusing forward again. "Tatsuki-chan said I'm a black belt in karate so if something happened, I'll do my best to protect you in my own way."

A small smile played across his lips and hovered there. "A black belt, huh?" Orihime nodded determinedly. "I'm in capable hands, then?" The pickup shifted lane, slipped past an old truck, then steered back into the previous lane.

"You sure are! I will be your temporary bodyguard!"

Ichigo shrugged, a smile lifting the corner of his mouth. "I'm glad. Take care of me, all right?"

"I will!" she vowed with a determined nod. Taking a deep breath to calm her racing heartbeat at the sight of his smiling mouth, she faced the window beside her. "Ichigo-kun, may I open this window? I'm sure the wind slapping my face would feel nice!"

Ichigo lifted an eyebrow at her odd wording but he nodded. "Go ahead. Just don't— Oi, don't stick your head out of the car! It's dangerous!"

She gave a short laugh at his frantic expression, but did what he told her. Shifting until she was comfortable, Orihime gazed at the passing scenery. She had never been on a trip outside the city before. Everything seemed so new to her; the street signs, sounds, colors, the shape of clouds. Even the wind against her face felt different.

The breeze entering the vehicle occasionally lifted long locks of red hair toward Ichigo. He could see them dance in the corner of his eye as though teasing him. It was quiet between them, except for the gentle hum of the engines, the passing wind and automobiles.

Soon the silence was replaced by her chatter. Orihime talked about anything, random thoughts, random observations, and random memories. Ichigo was content to simply listen. She talked about the things that made her happy, the food she liked, the people she had met, talked to, and exchanged ideas with; about her best friend and the things they did together; about the things she wanted to do—

"When I was younger, I wanted to be an astronaut and defeat the evil alien race with my Space Battleship Yamato!"

Ichigo raised an eyebrow. "That's… a little dangerous."

"Not really. My ship has the three shock cannons, a set of pulse lasers and most importantly…" Orihime paused reverently, a solemn look on her face.

"The wave motion gun," Ichigo supplied with a small smile.

Orihime looked surprised, turning so that she was facing his profile.

"You watch too much science fiction, Orihime."

She laughed, throwing back her head. "I also watch Ghost Bust!" She lowered her voice to imitate the famed exorcist. "…Smells like bad spirits!"

"Not you too…" Ichigo groused with a groan, shaking his head.

"Too? What do you mean?"

"Yuzu and old man are huge fans of that show."

"Oh? You don't like Don Kanonji?"

He shrugged. "I don't have anything against him. I just don't like fortune telling, feng shui, psychics and all those trades where they take money from people for things you can't see."

Orihime smiled, glad to see another layer of Ichigo. She continued to fill the silence with random stories. She became strangely tightlipped, however, when Ichigo suddenly asked her about her parents and brother, hoping to startle her into answering. She stopped talking abruptly. For a moment, she looked lost, wounded, but it was so fleeting, as though it were just a trick of a light, before a bright smile occupied her whole face. Like the last time, the answers she gave were short.

At two-forty, they got off the highway and started down a small roadway. Noticing the silence, Ichigo glanced at Orihime. Her eyes were closed, her eyelids diaphanous. She was curled up in her seat, head against the frame of the window, auburn hair fluttering over her forehead and cheeks.

The road became uneven and rock-strewn. Ichigo held out an arm in front of her when they encountered a particularly large bump that rocked the whole vehicle. Ichigo took a quick look at Orihime to see if the disturbance disrupted her sleep; she continued to doze, her long, shiny hair strewn all over her seat.

The pickup continued on forward, turning, slowing down, accelerating until the path became smooth. A large, two-storey, wooden old-fashioned house surrounded by a tall wall made of thick wood and bamboo soon came into view.

Slowing down, Ichigo maneuvered the pickup and parked in front of the roofed gate.

Taking Orihime's shoulder, Ichigo shook her gently. "We're here."

Ichigo unlocked her seatbelt and got out of the truck. Opening the back door, he picked up their bags. In her seat, yawning, Orihime stretched then clambered out of the car, gazing at the unfamiliar landscape.

After securing the pickup, Ichigo walked over to Orihime. He took her hand and pulled her towards the roofed gate. With a squeak, she stumbled after him and clutching onto his forearm with her free hand.

"Where are we?"

They entered a large courtyard. "Hayama," Ichigo answered.

Azaleas, pine, plum, magnolias and manicured bushes lined the gravel path. A couple of stone lanterns peeked out between the trees. They crossed the large garden and ascended the stone steps. Ichigo lowered the bags he carried to the ground and knocked on the wooden door. Footsteps approached from the other side of the door. The door was unbolted and slid open, revealing a tall man with a calm face and an open, kind air about him.

Upon seeing Ichigo, the other man looked surprised. "Your Highness!"

"Ukitake-san."

"I didn't know you were coming," Ukitake said, bemused.

"Choosing this place was a last minute decision. Sorry for coming here on short notice."

"No, no, it's okay. It's no trouble. In fact, your decision to stay here makes me really happy. It has been years since you last visited and stayed." Kind, warm eyes turned to Orihime. "It's an honor to finally meet you in person, Your Highness. I'm Ukitake Jyuushiro."

"Good afternoon, Ukitake-san." Orihime beamed at him. "This place is so beautiful."

Ukitake smiled back. "Thank you. We always make sure to keep this place clean." Realizing they were standing and chatting in the doorway, Ukitake hurriedly stepped aside to let them in. "I'm sorry for my poor manners. Come in. Here, let me help you." He made a move to take the bags from Ichigo.

Ichigo shook his head. "It's okay. Lead the way, Ukitake-san."

"I'm really glad I kept the house clean. You see, this place doesn't get frequent visits. Imperial Family members use the Imperial Villa when they visit Hayama." Ukitake smiled at them as they walked down the hallway. "Now I'm sure to keep this place ready in case you surprise us again in the future."

Ukitake brought them to the drawing room. Orihime, who was still attached to Ichigo's side, was unable to hide her wonder as she looked around.

"I am confused, though," Ukitake continued, "The Imperial Villa is more accessible and has more complete amenities."

Ichigo put the bags down and looked around. It was the same as he remembered it: homey, spacious and clean. "I prefer small lodgings."

Ukitake smiled in understanding. Even as a child, the Crown Prince favored simpler things. "We have one problem, though. We don't have stocks of food here. I have to ask Kiyone and Sentarou to buy groceries."

"Don't worry about it. We'll do it," Ichigo said.

"You will? Is it—"

"That's true!" Orihime chirped cheerfully from Ichigo's side, their hands still entwined. "We can manage, Ukitake-san." While the Crown Prince can defend himself efficiently when necessary, Ukitake was still uncertain.

"We'll be fine. It'd be interesting," Ichigo added with a shrug.

"Don't worry, Ukitake-san! I'll protect Ichigo-kun." She nodded determinedly, raising a fist. "My best friend told me I'm a black belt in Karate." Laughing sheepishly, Orihime rubbed the back of her head. "I look clumsy but I was told that I'm strong enough and very sturdy. Plus, my head is as hard as a rock." She tapped the side of her head with her knuckles for emphasis.

Ukitake smiled warmly, finally giving in. "I'll leave the Crown Prince in your care, then. If you have any concerns, don't hesitate to call me. I'll leave my house number here."

Ichigo nodded. "Thanks." He watched the older man leave through the front door before turning to Orihime. He let go of her hand and watched her pad across the floor to inspect the furniture.

"This is the first time I've been into an old-fashioned house. The atmosphere is different. I feel like I was transported to another beautiful world!" Orihime slid open a screen, revealing a portion of the garden surrounding the house. Sea-scented breeze wafted in, enfolding the two of them.

Ichigo glanced at his wristwatch. It was three twenty-five. "We have a lot of time to spare." He saw Orihime murmur under her breath, rubbing a palm on the wooden frames of a sliding paper door. "You can take a nap before we buy groceries and other supplies."

She turned to him with a smile. "Oh! I actually feel energized! So if you want to go now, it's okay."

"All right. Let me wash up first and change."

:

In a white v-neck shirt, black cotton jacket with a hood to hide his signature bright spikes and wearing sunglasses, Ichigo followed Orihime inside the convenience store. Orihime had also changed into a flowery knee-length skirt, a light yellow sweater over a white blouse, and worn tennis shoes with no socks. Her long hair was tied in two loose long plaits, her long fringes clipped on top of her head with a hairpin.

"You look like a high school girl." Ichigo told her when he first saw her.

Blinking, Orihime looked down at herself. "I do?"

Ichigo did not answer right away, his eyes lidded. "No, not really…"

They bought rice, breads, bottles of water, eggs, smoked salmon, leeks, two cartons of milk, broccoli, strawberries, beef, eggplant, radish, potatoes, cauliflower, tofu, pickles, squid and—

"Wasabi?"

She responded with a grin. "You can't have ramen without wasabi and honey." Ichigo looked even more bewildered. Orihime took a package of noodles from a shelf. "Do you like noodles?"

"Yeah…" he replied distractedly, looking at the contents of their shopping cart. What could they make using this bizarre combination of ingredients? Nevertheless, Ichigo let her get whatever she thought they might need while he grabbed several chocolate bars.

Done with shopping for enough food to hold them over for three days, they drove back to the house. It turned out that despite her quirky choices in ingredients, Orihime can create tasty, albeit odd-looking dishes.

After dinner, Ichigo took a long bath before going back to the kitchen to help Orihime.

When she spun around at the sound of him reentering the room, she grew still. Ichigo's hair was still dripping wet. Droplets of water slid from the tips of his soaked hair to his bare shoulders and chest. His sweatpants hung low around his hipbones.

Orihime staggered backward, clutching the dishrag and small bowl to her heaving chest. Ichigo raised a brow at her reaction. She seemed to have trouble speaking.

"You…! I… Why— you're…" she stammered, her voice coming out as strangled and breathless. Her face had turned a bright shade of red. Orihime felt like her heart and brain were both in danger of short-circuiting from sensory overload.

On the other hand, Ichigo looked oblivious, lifting a hand to push his wet bangs off his forehead. This action brought her attention to the rippling muscles of his arm, ribs and pectorals. He then crossed his arms in front of his naked chest and looked at her from under his lowered eyelashes.

Neither said anything for a full minute or more, with only the running water making any noise.

Ichigo finally chose to break the silence. "The bathroom is down the corridor." Orihime started and fixed him a wide-eyed look. "The last door to the right. I'll finish up here." He walked over to her, and she took a few clumsy steps back.

This was exactly the way she reacted during their first night together so it did not surprise Ichigo. He plucked the bowl and dishrag from her hands and watched her attempt to make a coherent response, opening her mouth a couple of times, but nothing seemed to work so she just nodded jerkily a few times, dropped her eyes, and left the kitchen as though she were being chased.

Reaching over to turn off the faucet, Ichigo glanced over his shoulder in the direction where Orihime had disappeared. He blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair.

"Fuck."

:

Clutching her things and change of clothes to her chest, Orihime stood in front of the mirror, flushed and wide-eyed.

Wet hair. Naked chest. Low waist sweatpants— _S-Stop right there! _Orihime buried her red face into her towel._ Think of… think of… Aha! A stomping mecha with max speed of 380km/h, flames shooting from its mouth!_

She repeated this mantra over and over again and it seemed to work for she was able to finish her bath without getting distracted. Rejuvenated, she stepped into what she assumed was her bedroom.

On the floor was a futon large enough for two people. An old-fashioned lamp shone from a low table in the corner, giving the room a faint yellow glow. Standing in the other corner nearest to the door was a wooden chest of drawers.

After drying her hair, she slipped under the blanket. The futon and the blankets smelled fresh and felt fluffy. Orihime closed her eyes in satisfaction, wiggling a bit and smiling to herself.

Later, she did not hear the sound of door sliding open and footsteps enter, her senses fogged with drowsiness. The light from the lamp slowly faded until it was turned off and complete darkness engulfed the room. Seconds later, something warm flopped down next to Orihime.

"Hey." It took a while for Orihime to open her eyes, blinking groggily. "Move a little to your left."

"I-Ichigo-kun…?" Orihime mumbled absent-mindedly. What was he doing here? This was _her_ room— _Are we… going to sleep on the same futon?_

At this thought, her eyes flew open. She barely suppressed a squeak when large hands grasped her shoulders, effortlessly but gently shifting her. Then she felt Ichigo slump on the vacant space next to her.

Seconds ticked by_, _thirty eight, thirty nine, forty, forty one, forty two.

His breathing was steady.

Orihime released the long, shaky breath she had unconsciously held. Her fingers curled, crumpling the sheet. All she had to do was _move _by an inch and she can touch—

_No! _She slapped her cheek, scolding herself for thinking such scandalous thought.

Almost afraid the slightest move will wake Ichigo, Orihime turned her head in his direction. He was lying on his side, his back to her. Instead of slipping under the covers beside her, he rested on top of the blanket. From what she can make out in the darkness, Ichigo was still shirtless. Careful not to disturb his sleep, Orihime slipped off the futon and felt around for the chest of drawers to look for a spare blanket. Fortunately, there were extras available. Taking one, she draped the blanket over Ichigo before slipping under hers.

:

He woke to a bright sunlight pouring through a window, creating shadows and strips of light across the walls, on the floor, on the blanket draped over his lower body, on his chest.

After pulling on a shirt, Ichigo stepped into the hallway, his brown eyes narrowing at the hallway brightly illuminated by the sunlight pouring through the thin paper screens. When he arrived in the kitchen, it was empty. On the table was a set of lunch. Lifting a hand to scratch his tousled hair, he checked the time on the old wall clock. He had slept until two in the afternoon.

He stepped into another hallway leading to an engawa that opened up to a vegetable garden. Lowering his hand, he stared out in the garden, his eyes locating Orihime's crouched figure. A large, old straw hat shielded her face from the sun. She must have felt his presence for she lifted her head and looked toward the veranda.

Upon seeing his tall figure, Orihime got to her feet and approached him. She almost burst into a fit of giggles at the sight of his ruffled hair, spikes sticking up in different angles.

"I made lunch for you. It's on the table." She told him with a wide smile, eyes still drawn to the messy orange head of hair. It was so much brighter under the unobstructed sunshine.

"Thanks." He dragged a hand over his face, still looking sleepy. "What's your plan for today?" His voice was still raspy from sleep. "It's your birthday." He elaborated when she stared at him quizzically.

"Oh, that's right!"

An amused smile briefly spread over his face. "What do you want to do?"

"Actually… I didn't make any plans," Orihime admitted, tapping her chin. She usually spent her birthdays eating bread or doughnuts and ice cream, and reading. If Tatsuki was free, she would come over and they'd watch comedy and science fiction movies.

"We can look around if you want… see the sights, something like that." Ichigo offered, scratching a spot in his chin.

Her eyes widened. "Is— is it really okay?" she asked, barely suppressing her excitement.

He looked into the distance, squinting. "Name the place where you want to go."

Orihime beamed, large eyes sparkling as she clasped her hands together. "Can you bring me to a beach?" She had never been to a beach before due to lack of extra time and funds. This was perhaps the only chance she'll get to visit one.

"All right, beach it is."

After eating the food Orihime prepared for him, the two of them took turns using the bathroom. Orihime hurriedly slipped into a pale green dress with billowing hem and square neckline and dried her hair. She was tackling the tangles in her hair when Ichigo entered the room. She did not see him enter, but the deluge of very male scent alerted her to his presence. Blushing, Orihime combed her hair faster, trying to ignore the urge to peek over her shoulder.

_What has gotten into me? What would Nii-chan think? _He'd be so horrified.

Behind Orihime, a towel around his hips, Ichigo stood before the cabinet where Orihime had stored his clothes. Keeping his back to her, he slipped into a grey v-neck shirt and old, washed-out, tight jeans.

Ichigo first took her to the garden of Imperial Villa. It was open to the public and there were few tourists who did not even spare them a glance, captivated by the beauty of nature. After their garden trip, he brought her to a park. Ichigo noticed that every time they passed an ice cream stand, Orihime would make a strange, wide-eyed face. At the fourth ice cream stand they passed, he brought her over it and told her to get whatever flavor she wanted.

At first, she looked shocked, and then she smiled brightly at him. Ichigo frowned and looked away, as though she's reminded him of something both pleasant and painful.

Unfortunately, a lot of people and children were dallying at the beach. Deciding not to risk it, they stayed inside the pickup and watched the sunset from behind the tinted windows.

"We'll come back tomorrow," Ichigo promised. Smiling, Orihime nodded in understanding. As they drove back to the house, they made a quick stopover next to a curb. Ichigo flicked on the hood of his jacket and slipped on his sunglasses before slipping out of the pickup.

"I'll be quick. Wait here." The door snapped shut. He returned several minutes later, carrying a red square box.

"What is it?"

Ichigo restarted the engine.

"You'll see."

:

They were halfway through their dinner when Ichigo revealed his surprise. Too stunned to utter a single word, she gaped at the cake then at Ichigo.

"You don't like chocolate?" asked Ichigo when she remained incapable of speech.

Orihime started and flailed an arm. "Oh, I-I love chocolate! I…" The round cake was generously covered in chocolate and topped with fresh strawberries.

"_Happy birthday, Orihime."_

"_Thank you, Onii-chan! Ooh, it's chocolate!"_

"_It's your favorite, isn't it?"_

"_Un! With strawberries!"_

"_Ripe and fresh."_

"_Onii-chan is the best brother in the world!"_

"_And Orihime is the best thirteen year old girl in the world."_

"—Orihime?"

"Huh?"

"What's wrong?"

After forcefully shaking herself out of her daze, of that memory, she smiled at Ichigo brightly. "I just remembered something."

"A good memory?"

She smiled to herself. "Yes." A bittersweet memory but nonetheless, it was precious.

"Thank you, Ichigo-kun. It looks very beautiful."

After dinner and cleaning the kitchen, Orihime clicked off the lights. In the hallway, some lights were turned off, engulfing the corridor in half darkness. The light near their room remained lit. Near the door to their bedroom, leaning on his side against a wall was Ichigo, head bowed, his hair falling over his eyes.

When he lifted his head to look at her, she smiled at him.

"Thanks for today."

He frowned. "I'm sorry. The cake was all I managed to give you."

"Don't say that," she protested gently. "I loved the cake! You bringing me here and the cake are more than enough. I enjoyed this day, really I did! I knew from books and pictures that Hayama is perfect place to visit but I didn't expect it to be so beautiful." A small smile touched the corner of his lips which made Orihime smile more.

Silently he gazed at her. Orihime could not see his expression well with the light shining behind his head.

She did not hear him move. Rather she felt it. His scent was closer, stronger. Her heart rate sped up, his nearness making her nervous, but she did not move away. A delicious tingle raced under her skin, over her spine and back up to the back of her neck. She swallowed and nervously licked her lips when his eyes focused on her mouth.

When he looked in her eyes again, Orihime found staggering intimacy in the way they stood close together, like this, facing each other, not touching, but hearing and feeling each others' heartbeats. In that space that separated them was an abyss that will suck them in, will trap them in.

Ichigo touched her cheek with his fingertips, his thumb running over her bottom lip. "That's good to hear," he said, his voice quiet, but in the silence of the darkened hallway, she heard him clearly. His hazel-brown eyes seemed to burn with a life of their own.

A sigh, a breathless sigh.

Her lips curved in a smile under his thumb. "It's true," she whispered, mesmerized.

At the touch of his warm palm on her cheek, Orihime became painfully aware of the heat rising within her. Slowly as though giving her time to refuse him, Ichigo bent down and kissed her lips. A sigh parted her lips. His tongue ran over the edge of her bottom lip, and then lightly nipped it.

One of her hands lifted between them to clutch at his shirt to pull him closer. The distance between them soon disappeared, their bodies pressed close together from shoulders to thighs. Desire, so strong it made her knees weak, raced vigorously through her, a living thing that seemed to grow and pulse with a life of its own.

Both of his hands framed her face, tipping her head back to fully deepen the kiss. One hand slid over the base of her skull to support her head, auburn locks twisting themselves around his long fingers.

Orihime tried to match the fire of his kisses with her own, but Ichigo devoured her lips completely, his tongue tracing over her lips, teeth, and tongue. With his other arm, he encircled her waist in a tight embrace.

Soon their clothing became annoyingly restrictive, suffocating. Orihime craved for their skin to touch, to feel the wild strength that pounded wildly under his hot skin. Her hands roamed over his back before slipping under his shirt. She gasped against his demanding lips; his skin was hot, like a furnace, sinewy muscles twitching, rippling, stretching and contracting under her touch.

Ichigo tugged on her bottom lip with his teeth, sucking and biting, and laving the swollen flesh with his tongue. Orihime gripped the skin of his flank, massaging and squeezing, her nails digging into his flesh. The hint of pain made Ichigo growl and kiss her harder and deeper.

Eager hands unbuttoned her blouse. They got impatient at the third button and tore the rest. Round, white buttons clattered and skittered away. He shoved her collar to the side, pulled away from her swollen lips and sank his teeth gently into the junction where her shoulder met her neck.

Orihime gasped, moaned, tipped her head back while Ichigo continued to undress her, still sucking her skin. Her blouse fell to the floor, followed by her bra, the back clasp torn. Another moan, louder this time, was ripped from her as soon as his hands curved over her breasts possessively.

With all his weight, Ichigo trapped her against the wall, caging her in with his larger body. He rolled his hips and kneaded her breasts firmly, lifting and molding them together, making her whine and pant against his wet lips. She squirmed, groaning, when he squeezed her nipples. With his lower body grinding insistently against her, creating delicious friction, the heat in her blood increased to a fevered level, and she felt lost, wild, not herself.

"I-Ichigo…" she panted against his lips, face flushed and warm.

As if he sensed her need, Ichigo grabbed her bottom with one hand, hauling her up and closer to his erection. Startled, she bit down on his lower lip hard.

He groaned, shuddering violently. He grasped her breast tighter, flicking the sensitive hard tip with his nail, and ground his hips harder against hers. Orihime let out a long, needy moan, unable to hold back, as pleasure surged in her lower belly. It was too intense that her wobbly legs finally gave out. Ichigo caught her, clutching her bottom, and then he half-carried and half-dragged her toward their room.

He shoved her firmly against what Orihime thought was the chest of drawers. Still supporting her bottom with one hand and the other splayed on her back, he bent down and took a stiff nipple in his mouth. She gasped, sparks dancing along her nerves at the searing contact, making her dizzy. His tongue swirled around the hardened tip before drawing it deeper as far as it would go into his wet mouth, sucking on it eagerly.

Head lolling back, hanging onto his shirt, uncaring if she was on the verge of tearing the seams because of her tight grip, Orihime gasped for air frantically. Her body was wound tight beyond belief, desperate for release.

Panting, Orihime wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him closer to her chest, fingers tangling in his hair. Ichigo grabbed the back of her thigh and hoisted it higher to his waist, lifting her higher, firmly lodging himself in the cradle of her thighs, licking and sucking her nipples.

As he continued to taste her skin, her hands clawed at his back until his shirt rode up, scoring his hot flesh with her blunt nails. The slight pain caused Ichigo to groan against her breast. Capturing the rosy tip between his teeth, he surged forward between her thighs and at the same time, tugged her nipple with his teeth sharply.

Orihime jerked, her breath catching in her throat. Biting her lower lip hard, she struggled to contain the embarrassing sounds in the back of her throat, but it was futile. This intense hunger, as if she had not had a meal for days then he came along and all she ever wanted to eat was him, was frightening her, making her question herself and her morals. But right now, it did not matter. The feeling of being so close to the brink of something so powerful was overriding her shyness.

With one last flick over her rosy, swollen nipple, Ichigo pulled away from her breast. In quick movements, he took off his shirt, nearly tearing off all the buttons. He enveloped her in his arms again, pulled her close to his body and kissed her feverishly, as though her mouth was a meal he had to devour.

Flesh against flesh, her breasts against his hard chest, their lips clinging to one another. Electric, irresistible. Her noises changed, edged with desperation, lustier, louder, her timidity replaced by boldness.

In the dimly-lit room, Ichigo found their futon with his foot and put her down carefully. Thick, auburn hair spread out under her head. Wide caramel eyes, unblinking, transparent. A thin chain surrounded her pale neck, blue flowers resting between her heaving breasts.

Her hands roamed his back, her fingers dipping under the waistband of his jeans. She watched him with naked desire in her eyes. Her arms embraced him closer to her warmth, her lips parting to whisper his name, beckoning him closer. With a harsh groan, he sank his tongue into her mouth, covering her body completely with his. The next moments were a blur of mouths, teeth and tongues. He made wet trails on her skin, biting her here and there, creating a path for his tongue, for his kisses.

With reverence, he kissed the triangle between her collarbones. Then he kissed her pulse point, grazing her skin with his teeth, and returned to ravishing her panting mouth. Her fingers clutched at his hair as she kissed him back.

Too engrossed in exploring his mouth, Orihime did not notice him fumble with the waistline of her skirt, his fingers locating the button that held the fabric. With a quick jerk, he tore it open and the button skittered away. She lifted her hips as Ichigo tugged her skirt down to her legs along with her purple panties. Carelessly, he tossed them to the side and immediately slipped his hand between her thighs to cup her wet heat.

Moaning around his tongue, Orihime rubbed herself against his palm, seeking release. He pushed a finger into her, and the feel of her soaked, hot sex, so ready for him, made him groan and flex his hips to rub against her thigh.

Abruptly his lips broke away from hers, and he watched her squirm and whine as he added another finger. Her warmth clenched forcefully around his fingers while his thumb circled the swollen nub at the apex of her wet folds lightly before rubbing it hard.

"Ah!" Orihime gasped, back arching off the futon, her hair gleaming around and under her head.

The muscles in his jaw clenched as Ichigo watched her writhe. Beads of sweat rolled from his temples to his cheeks and jaw, dropping to her skin, their sweat mingling. Her slick flushed skin glimmered in the faint lighting. He licked his lips and rubbed her harder, pushing his fingers deeper. A shudder raced through her body, causing her spine to arch off the futon over and over and her breasts to move up and down. Damp red-brown locks twisted messily as she turned her head to the side, exposing her slender neck, that delicate throb of her pulse under her jaw.

Still thrusting his fingers inside her, he pressed hard kisses to her neck and collarbones, nipping her skin. Her hands clutched at the muscles of his back, nails digging and leaving marks, her moans growing louder, more needy as the pace of his fingers increased.

"Ichi… Ichigo …"

When he felt the first tremors of her release, he withdrew his fingers, causing her to whine softly in protest. Panting heavily, she blinked up at him with a look that was both innocent and seductive. Ichigo clenched his teeth and blew out several breaths.

While he held her gaze, he raised his damp fingers to his mouth and darted his tongue out to take a sample of her taste. A different look, more intense and erotic, darkened her eyes. Her slender throat moved slowly, her eyes not leaving his glistening fingers. Without finesse, he shoved his fingers into his mouth and sucked them, lapping at his treat, groaning to show his pleasure. A dark emotion stirred in her eyes, her bruised lips parted. He licked his fingers, not breaking eye contact with her. He hardened to the point of pain as something akin to lust flared in her eyes and her thighs opened for him, showing him how ready she was.

Ichigo could no longer wait anymore.

Hurriedly, he unbuttoned his jeans and slid out of them, hissing between clenched teeth as his erection throbbed, now free from its constraint. He was burning with fierce need to possess and be possessed by the woman under him. Finally undressed, he returned between her legs, stroking her sides.

Her face was flushed, and she looked sweet and vulnerable under his larger and powerful body. In spite of the innocence that seemed to pour out of her naturally, the hunger was there in the way she looked at him. The scent of her desire was so thick in the air between them that Ichigo can taste it on his tongue.

One of her hands tentatively reached out to touch him, the tips of her index and middle fingers brushing his chest lightly. He did not know what made him do it – an impulse or perhaps it was because of how sweet she looked despite the thick scent of sex between them.

He took her small hand and kissed her fingers. She smiled, making him pause for a moment. It was difficult to imagine that such an innocent-looking woman was capable of unleashing a possessive passion in him that made him want to lose himself in her very essence.

Her legs opened up wider, a very erotic invitation that contrasted deeply with her sweet smile and innocent face. He grasped her hips, the tip of his erection brushing her, making her moan his name. The sound of his name on her lips was sinfully sweet, like a forbidden caress.

Barely resisting the urge to pound into her with all his strength, he thrust into her with a force that was both gentle and hard. Catching her swollen lip hard between her teeth, Orihime stifled a cry, her back arching rigidly and fingernails digging into his shoulder.

Surrounded by her tightness and silky wetness, Ichigo groaned deep in his throat, body tense and taut. She was as wet and aroused as the first time they made love. How long had it been since he first took her? The past months of not touching her was a torture, made him lose his mind at times.

And now, he was deeply inside her, from tip to base. In a word, another torture, but this, _this_ was an addicting, delicious torture. Something he'd love to lose his mind into.

When her thighs squeezed his hips, pulling him deeper into her, he cursed, hissing, almost losing his control right then and there. Still, he was determined to take control for he was one who had always claimed to have perfect control over his body and its needs. Ichigo pushed her down on the futon and withdrew inch by inch. Her hot flesh clung to him, unwilling to let go. He licked his dry lips, straining for control. The tip barely left her when he plunged right in again. Orihime cried out, gripping the sheets. He repeated this action over and over— slowly withdrawing until he was almost free then plunging fast. And each time he did, Orihime made cute, breathy, needy sounds that made it harder for Ichigo to slow down and be gentle.

Soon everything became too much, but still not enough. Both were hungry for something they could not name. Despite this, Ichigo strived to maintain control, but it was futile. She was irresistible, addicting, driving him crazy. He felt like his head will explode from the sharp pleasure flooding his body. His control started to slip and his thrusts became fiercer and irregular, but she seemed not to mind his growing urgency. If anything, she responded with same fervor and hunger, his name tumbling out of her mouth, resonating inside his head.

_Ichigo._

_Ichigo._

Grabbing her rear and lifting her off the futon, Ichigo thrust as deep as he could with a groan, his body quivering in an effort to control the pace of his thrusts. But when her hips bucked hard under his, taking all of him, from tip to base, squeezing him tightly, his breath was knocked out of him and he forgot his vow to slow down. He growled, groaned, _cursed_, and gripped her hips, and then pounded into her harder, faster, out of control, again and again.

Orihime arched her neck, mouth falling open, crying out, feeling so full of Ichigo. She wriggled in a near frenzy under his merciless thrusts, wanting more. He was a big, hot presence in her. He, everything, his hard heat, his intensity, were too much to bear, and yet she wanted more. Every frantic thrust he made overwhelmed her, pushing her harder, closer to the edge. Her thighs squeezed him tightly as she lifted her sweaty self up to meet his thrusts, her ankles tangled with his calves. Skin glided against skin, slick with sweat.

"Orihime," he groaned between clenched teeth, watching her eyes lose focus as the hot, tight knot inside her unraveled.

Stiffening, back arched, Orihime cried out his name and as she did, Ichigo buried his face in her neck, not stopping from lunging forward. He groaned, relishing the feel of her clenching tightly around him. His head spun with the force of sensations flooding him. He clutched the sweat-sodden sheet with one hand, the other gripping her hip, thrusting repeatedly, so out of control that he worried he might be hurting her.

"Fuck," he hissed, and held her hips with both hands as he drove against her hips.

A gasp escaped her swollen lips and her body squeezed him hard. For a moment, Ichigo stilled before a violent torrent of intense pleasure grabbed hold of him. Orgasm slammed into him, driving a groan from his mouth. His hips were on auto-pilot, still thrusting, riding the waves of passion. It seemed that his passion for her had no end, and he was desperate to make it last for as long as it can.

Beneath him, Orihime ran her palms over his slippery back, feeling muscles tighten as he continued to surge deep into her. He threw his head back, neck muscles contracting fiercely as his chest came forward. All of these Orihime watched with fascination.

Even with his heavy weight pressing down on her after he collapsed on top of her, Orihime smiled and embraced him. Still breathing heavily, Ichigo tried to roll off of her but she did not let him. She held fast, clutching him. He lifted his head from her sweaty shoulder and looked down at her.

Orihime smiled at him shyly, tears filling her eyes. "Thank you. I-It was wonderful."

It must be her imagination; she was happy, felt loved. It was okay if it was just fantasy of hers inspired by the intensity of their lovemaking, but his face appeared to soften as he smiled at her much like the way a man did at the woman he cared for. A tear fell from the corner of her eye. His fingers brushed wet auburn strands off her flushed cheek and he kissed her, long and thorough.

The kiss created another spark of desire in her. He must have felt it grow intense because he deepened the kiss, his lips moving more urgently, his thumb tracing the side of her ribs.

"Ichigo…"

Ichigo licked his lips, his eyes dark. "You…"

He shoved an arm between her back and the sweat-soaked blanket, his hand gripping her hip possessively as he grinded against her in circle, creating new, fiercer sensations. Clutching his shoulder and his arm, Orihime squirmed, biting her lip to muffle her moans. She felt sore and exhausted, but she wanted more, so much more.

"C-Can we…" She bit her bottom lip, her shyness making her falter. Ichigo's lips curled in a smile. He planted his hands on her back and hoisted her up to a sitting position, her thighs straddling him. Orihime drew a shaky breath at the change of position.

"I… I'll be on top?" she whispered, eyes wide with wonder.

Some damp red-orange hair was sticking to his sweaty forehead. Cupping the side of her face, he grinned lopsidedly. "Just once. So do your best."

She smiled back and kissed him, her arms looping around his neck. With one hand, she ran her fingers thought his thick, sweat-soaked orange spikes. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, shyly at first, before boldly kissing him, eliciting a growl from him.

* * *

><p><strong>notes.<strong>

to _Hanran_ who drew a stunning artwork based on this fic, thank you! it was amazing and gorgeous and – ahaha i think i've expressed my feelings for it in a PM! guys, if you have free time, check out her fanarts at Deviantart!

to lovely _rairakku-chama_, thanks so very very much for your help and looking over this piece! *v* check out her amazing (sexy!) fics :)

and ahh, smut oh yeaaaaah. wink, wink! :P

this took a while, i realize. don't worry, next chapter's 75% done so please give me a week or so! in any case, as always, thank you, thank you very much for continuing to read and review even with my infrequent updates. :) your reviews are all greatly appreciated and encouraging, thank you so much! i hope you had fun with this chapter! :) /flails


	10. rain

**godsend** **  
><strong>rain **  
><strong>

:

A careless breeze rustled the white curtains. Orihime watched their idle dance while still tangled in the sheets with Ichigo.

Under the sheets, their legs were entwined in such a way one could not tell where she began and where he ended, his thick arms around her waist, his face buried in her shoulder.

Every part of her body was scarred by his warmth, his hands, his lips, his tongue, his teeth, his scent. Inside and outside of her, he was everywhere. She felt as if she was devoured, naked of everything.

Outside, the sun rose higher. Faint gold glow seeped through the cracks in the drapes. His grip was not tight yet firm, and she was careful not to wake him when she untangled herself from him. The loss of his warmth evoked a feeling of almost-loss.

The sheets pooled around her waist as she sat up. Orihime swept a thick swathe of hair over her shoulder, her hair luminous against white skin.

Beside her, the morning light revealed a different version of Ichigo. Asleep and not frowning, he still looked serious yet calm, even innocent, untainted by fatigue and severity brought about by everyday responsibilities.

Captivated by this unfamiliar sight, she reached out a hand towards him. A delicious current zapped the tips of her fingers as she made contact with warm, bronze skin; it made her dizzy, made her body hum with want and need.

A feeling filled her then, spreading from her chest to her limbs, sinking into her bones, pulsing like a living thing. It drove her to come closer, to touch and taste him. The pace of her breath accelerated. Her tongue flicked out to wet her dry lips, a lock of auburn hair falling forward, touching his cheek as she leaned in, her whole being under a spell.

Their lips almost touched but something jerked her back. She was not sure what it was but it created an opening for the reality to break in, as sharp as a blade, as crushing as a tidal wave. For a moment, she felt lost, empty. Then a profound ache sprouted in her heart, taking root there, growing until her lungs felt full and swollen.

The deep breaths she took did not help soothe the throbbing. It now reached the point in which their proximity became physically painful. Orihime rose from the futon, nude. Around her, pieces of clothing were strewn here and there; her skirt, his jeans, her panties, his white long-sleeved shirt.

In her shyness, she hesitated. Biting her lip, she picked up his shirt and put it on. It fell to her thighs, the sleeves too long, his scent wrapping around her like a straitjacket.

Sleeves rolled up to her elbows, she trotted to the bathroom and put her hands under the running water. Above her, through a small, square window, diamond-patterned sunbeams entered the bathroom.

After drying her face, she pulled her long hair in a chignon, securing it with a hair tie, revealing her neck and the red marks on her collar, at the junction where her neck and shoulder meet, below her ear and tops of her breasts.

Curious as to what they were, Orihime raised a hand to inspect one of them. However, her examination was cut short when a tall figure appeared in the mirror.

Behind her, almost filling up the space with his size, Ichigo stood in the doorway, his bright head of hair rumpled from sleep.

He was naked from waist up. His jeans, unzipped and unbuttoned, hung low around his lean hips. Her body reacted to his presence, heat coiling within her. Face flushed, Orihime tore her wide-eyed gaze away from the front of his opened jeans, fighting the urge to squirm. She turned off the faucet, hand shaking, and wiped her hands dry with a towel.

Turning to face him, she offered him a timid smile.

"G-Good morning."

He responded with a languid perusal, his lidded gaze lingering on the deep v of the shirt where it fell open because the first four buttons were missing.

Her lower lip quivered slightly, eyes wide, too bright. "D-Did I wake you?"

Ichigo said nothing, now gazing at her face.

He approached her then, slowly, deliberately. The space between them soon vanished, and her mouth went dry. He dropped a hand on her hip. Orihime cast her eyes down, anxiety showing clearly on her face, especially now he can see her body in broad daylight.

Even though many had expressed their admiration for her, none of those praises had helped boost her self-confidence. Some felt and sounded insincere with looks of poorly-concealed derision directed at her hair, and many of them came from those who fixed their gazes below her chin.

He must have sensed her insecurity; he squeezed her hip gently before sliding his hand over the base of her spine, his fingers making soothing circles. Touched by his gesture, Orihime smiled, sighing as she leaned into his warmth. Ichigo tucked his hand beneath the shirt and pulled her closer so that her breasts were touching his chest. His other hand cupped her cheek, lifting her face to his.

His lips gently touched hers, the contact brief. Orihime put her arms around his shoulders and leaned up to press her lips harder to his. Her kiss was timid and light yet thorough, as if she were enjoying a rich dessert. Ichigo let her be in charge, if only for a few seconds before taking over.

Their lips parted, and he ran the tip of his tongue across her lower lip before drawing it into his mouth with his teeth. He held the back of her neck as he trailed kisses to her jaw, going lower to press a kiss to the spot where her pulse throbbed. This seemed to intrigue him, this vulnerability, the beat and rush of her heart and blood; he lingered on this spot, nipping and licking tenderly.

She held his head, fingers rubbing his scalp. Orihime felt faint with feeling too much. The depth of her feelings terrified her. She shoved it away, told herself not to read into it too much. Just simply feel and tuck these memories in the very bottom of her heart for safekeeping.

She'd need these memories someday.

He lifted his head from her neck, their gazes meeting. Caught in each others' gazes, trapped in this moment, this minute, this nanosecond, both were stock still. Both were unable to let go, consumed, on fire.

She wanted to ask, _what are you thinking?_

"What are you thinking?" he whispered.

Her heart was beating fast.

Ichigo placed a hand between her breasts, over her heart.

"Your heart is beating fast."

His lips curled in a small smile, a sort of smile that seemed to say that he knew her most cherished secret.

Orihime stroked her lip with her tongue. "I-It's b-because I'm…"

His mouth came down on hers roughly, catching her words in his mouth. The hand on her chest skimmed the length of her torso before cupping the wet heat between her legs. Orihime squirmed, her back curving. Ichigo caressed her teasingly in time with the playful brush of his tongue inside her mouth, stoking the fire already blazing uncontrollably within her. Gripping his biceps tightly, she pressed closer to his fingers but he lifted his hand away and enfolded her breast in his palm, squeezing the sensitive, puckered tip.

A violent, white-hot heat tore through her body. Whimpering, Orihime sank her little teeth into Ichigo's bottom lip.

Orihime felt Ichigo go utterly rigid, letting go of her mouth. She gazed up at him, flushed and panting. His eyes were narrowed, his jaw clenching as his expression grew dark.

For Ichigo's part, it had taken all of his self-restraint not to shove her on a nearest wall, lift her legs and possess her with all his strength, without inhibition. His shaky self-control was further challenged when her fingernails scored his chest, grazing his nipples, forcing a groan from his mouth.

Grasping her nape, he covered her mouth with his, still careful with her even though it was becoming a severe physical strain not to be inside her. He froze at the feel of her small hand on the waistband of his jeans. Before it could go lower, he captured her hand.

More morning light filtered through the small window. Shadows and lights traversed above them, their silent audience.

Small and quick hot puffs rushed from between her swollen, very red lips.

"Are you going to faint?" Her eyelids fluttered, soft brown eyes poking through the thick lashes. "I'll catch you."

His gaze dropped to her breasts, squished together against his chest. Gazing lower, he scowled at the front of his opened jeans, cursing his overheated body.

A small warm palm touching his chest startled Ichigo. He fixed her with a hard look, jaw clenched, hiding his true reaction under his scowl.

Her smile was of utmost innocence when she murmured, "Your heart is beating fast."

Blazing, amber eyes narrowed.

"Is it," he said in a low tone. Her smile deepened. His next action caused her to jerk in surprise when he took her mouth. Her hair was pulled loose and Ichigo ploughed his fingers through the thick locks, grasping at it, pulling to tilt her head back to kiss her harder, bruising her lips.

_Fuck. _

This needed to stop. These kisses, this closeness; he was hairbreadth away from splitting out of his skin and who the fuck knew what he'll do next to her.

Ichigo ran his fingers through her hair once more before releasing her. She gasped, wobbling backward, and gripped the edge of the sink behind her for support as she gasped for air. Jaw clenched, he pulled his jeans up to his hips and zipped it.

As he shifted his legs around to give room to his erection, Ichigo glanced up, eyes focusing on the red marks he had left on her skin. Frowning, he reached over. He looked her in the eye when she touched his wrist.

"Are we going to the beach today?" she asked quietly, blushing.

He nodded, his thumb rubbing the red mark on her neck. "After lunch," he said, still looking grim, but his touch remained gentle, brushing her jaw with his knuckles.

"You look worried."

His brow knitted, his thumb resting on her bottom lip. Her flush deepened, and she looked away. "Don't be. I-I'm fine."

Ichigo raised an eyebrow. "I-I mean, if-if you're thinking about…" Orihime bit her lip, very red, gazing downward. "I'll make us some breakfast," she mumbled, gathering her hair in one hand as she walked past him.

:

Around three in the afternoon, he took her to the beach, not the one they saw the other day. The part of the beach where he took her was underdeveloped. Scattered all over the place were large rocks that provided privacy. From here they could see the hazy outline of Mount Fuji in the distance, swathed in clouds, looking like a fantasy, like a dream.

Upon seeing the waves touching the shore, Orihime squealed, kicking off her shoes and ran towards the shore, arms stretched at her sides. She scurried over the water until half of her shins were submerged. Laughing, she raised her face to the sky, auburn hair billowing behind her, shifting from flaming orange-red to sunshine gold.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw Ichigo standing on the shore, hands inside the front pockets of his faded jeans. His hair was tossed by the wind, falling over the side of his face.

They later walked side by side, she in the water, Ichigo on the dry shore. The water barely touched his tennis shoes. In the space between them was the scent of seawater. Their hands brushed against each others' but neither made a move to imprison the other.

Orihime still felt shy but there was an open air about her that indicated that she now found it easier to speak to him freely. This was apparent when she told him to walk in the water.

"Go on," she urged, grinning. Ichigo declined with a small shake of his head and took her hand instead. Orihime looked down to hide her red face behind her long hair.

"I can teach you to swim if you like," Ichigo offered when she later confessed she did not know how to swim.

She scrunched her nose. "I'm a slow learner. I'll just frustrate you and make you mad."

Ichigo glanced up at the sky, and then looked at her again, staring at her hair. "I'll be patient with you." This made Orihime laugh. "And if I lost my patience," he went on, "I'll just vent out my frustration in such a way that will benefit both parties."

Baffled, she looked over to him. He was grinning at her crookedly. Realizing what he had implied when his grin grew wider, Orihime reddened. "I-Ichigo-kun!"

Ichigo tugged at her hand and grabbed her hip to hook her into his body. Orihime squeaked in surprise, her free hand landing on his chest.

"What's wrong?" His breath was warm and enticing in her ear, sending a delicious shiver down her spine. His arm slid around her waist. "I don't hit women and I don't want to yell at you. _That _is the only appropriate way to express my frustration with you."

Her initial reply was an unintelligent mishmash of words before finally blurting out, "Y-You really don't have to teach m-me."

"Damn. That's too bad."

Orihime blew out a relieved breath when his hands dropped away from her body. She closed her eyes, pressing her hands to her chest, waiting for her breathing to normalize. When she peeked at him, she found him frowning up to the sky, his bangs lifting and falling over his eyes.

"What's wrong?"

His frown deepened. "I think it'll rain."

She pouted. "Not today, I hope! I'm having so much fun!" With that, she scampered off, playing with the waves and looking at seashells and oddly shaped rocks she could find. Ichigo followed the trail of small footsteps she'd made. With a thin rock, she scribbled on the wet sand, laughing every time the waves came and washed away what she had doodled.

At length, she got tired and sat down on the dry sand, her skirt twisting around her thighs, revealing her knees.

She looked over to Ichigo. With a smile, she patted the area next to her.

"You summoned?" Ichigo said, arching an eyebrow when he settled next to her. She giggled and twisted her body toward him to show him the seashell she found.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she murmured.

Ichigo looked at the shell briefly then gazed at her serene face. Feeling his eyes on her, she looked up to him through her thick lashes, pink lips parting. The look in his eyes stirred something in her, and before she could put distance between them, Ichigo was already on her.

The shell fell between her fingers just as Ichigo cradled the side of her face, a strong arm holding her closer to deepen the kiss. As though afraid she'll be taken away from him by the waves touching her bare feet, Orihime clung to him tightly.

The wind got stronger, sweeping over them, tousling Orihime's hair. Clutching her hip, Ichigo pulled her to his lap.

"Ichi… go…" Orihime whispered against his mouth, her fingers getting tangled in his hair, getting lost in the heated moment, forgetting where they were.

His hand wandered down her back and bottom, urging her to rub against him, her moan and his groan muffled by their hot clinging lips. The temperature between them sizzled, scorching, their movements turning more fevered, their kisses bordering on desperation.

Ichigo latched on her neck, sinking his teeth into her pale skin. Heat curled in her lower belly at the pleasure-pain. Orihime whimpered, pulling at his spikes, mouth falling open as she panted hotly in his ear. The hand on her rear slipped under her skirt and panties, pulling her closer to his erection. Head falling back, she rolled her hips forward, shuddering as she did.

Everything, everything was electric. On fire.

Ichigo grasped a fistful of auburn hair and leaned up to kiss her panting mouth, but something small and wet dropped to his arm, distracting him. He glanced up, eyes narrowed.

The sky had turned dark. Clouds had swollen up and turned grey, filling up the sky and swallowing up the afternoon sun. They were ready to drown the earth with their tears.

"Shit."

Ichigo got on his feet, an arm around Orihime's waist. "Get in the car." Orihime blinked dazedly, still catching her breath. She opened her mouth to ask, but a drizzle interrupted her. Fine rain had fallen. It steadily grew thicker until it became a heavy downpour with earsplitting rumbles of thunder. The transformation had taken place in barely a second.

"Go!" Ichigo's bellowed instruction snapped her out of her fascinated daze.

However, by the time they got into the backseat of the pickup, their clothes were already sodden with rain. As soon as Ichigo slammed the door shut, the rain became so thick it was impossible to see past the thick sheets of water.

Orihime brushed a wet lock of hair off of her cheek. Her blouse had turned transparent, revealing everything. She folded her arms in front of her chest and stared out of the window at the rain. Large droplets of water hit and erupted against the windows.

"Are you okay?" asked Ichigo.

Orihime turned to him with a smile. "I'm fine, thank you!"

Beads of rainwater clung to his skin, running down his jaw. "You're not. You're shaking." He put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm all right, really!" It was, however, very uncomfortable to have her blouse sticking to her skin and revealing everything. Thankfully, Ichigo had turned his attention to the pouring rain, a scowl on his face.

Watching him closely, Orihime noticed his disgruntled temper right away. His jaw was clenched, his eyes narrowed and cold. In fact, he was looking at the rain as if it was the most repulsive thing he had ever seen. How odd it was that something as simple as the rain could affect his mood this strongly. Perhaps something happened on a rainy day that made him develop an aversion to such weather.

Cautiously, she put a hand on top of his. "What's wrong?"

Ichigo blinked, his eyes snapping down at her. Orihime smiled softly.

"Don't you like the rain?"

He looked as if he wanted to say something, but he seemed to change his mind and shrugged instead. "It's an inconvenience," he said matter-of-factly, looking out the window once again.

Orihime felt there was something more than a simple inconvenience, but she did not pry. The less they knew about each other, the better. Despite their physical intimacies, she was careful to remain as a stranger to him and to perceive him as such in turn. After all, this romance was _not _a romance that would lead to permanence. There were some selfish indulgences every now and then, but she remained conscious of this essential truth: Ichigo was her personal cherry blossom; beautiful and transient.

That's why when he later revealed a delicate secret, Orihime felt dizzy with guilt. There were layers and layers of secrecy and lies in her. Because of these, she did not deserve Ichigo's openness. She did not deserve to witness his vulnerability. There was a wall between them which cannot, _should not, _be breached. But walls could be torn down and turn into bridges.

"It was raining when my mother died."

Without hesitation, she slid her arms around him, her cheek against his. "I'm sorry, Ichigo. I'm so sorry," she whispered in his ear. He went rigid. At first, she thought he will pull away. Then she felt his hands on her waist, stationary, and then they moved until his arms encircled her.

For a long while, they held each other, the sound of rain surrounding them. In her heart, Orihime hoped to shield him from the memories in the rain, even for a short moment. Outside, thunder and lightning tore through the sky, the sky and earth connected by the rain.

Moments later, she pulled back but kept her arms around him. Their faces were inches away from each other, their noses touching. Still unsure, she brushed the wet hair off his forehead and kissed him there.

"Could you tell me about her?" she said softly.

He regarded her quietly for a moment before launching into a short tale about his mother, how kind she was to everyone and how devoted she was to her family; how, when he was ten years old, he thought of her as the center of his world, the one he wanted to protect the most. The most vivid thing he remembered about her was her smile.

Orihime closed her eyes as she listened. She could picture him, the adorable ten year old boy who thought of his mom as the center of his universe. How amazing could it have been to have such a woman as a mother?

"She'll like you."

Opening her eyes, she met his gaze. His expression was unreadable. His eyes seemed to spark with raw, unnamed emotion.

He ran his thumb along her cheek, keeping eye contact with her. "If she were alive, she'd tell you how unlucky you are. I'm grumpy, hot-tempered, impatient, rude…"

Without thought, Orihime leaned in to press her lips to his. She pulled away, only slightly, face flushed.

"…Kind, sincere, strong, and…" Her breath came out strangled, voice sounding pained. "I… I don't… I don't deserve you. I…" Tears filled her eyes, struck by an emotion she could not name.

Ichigo cradled her face with both of her hands, lowered his face to hers and kissed her full on the mouth. His lips against hers were urgent, fervent with need. From her face, his hands moved down to her neck, tilting her head back, down her wet shoulders and breasts. Orihime shuddered, moaning, heat curling in her lower belly. Gently he squeezed her breasts, his thumbs rubbing her taut nipples. His mouth left hers then, and eyes dark and half-lidded, he watched her face contort with pleasure as he pressed her breasts together, giving each breast a hard squeeze.

Violent shivers wracked her body at each squeeze, her mouth falling open as she gasped for air. She no longer felt chilly. Her skin was tingling, and the delicious, searing discomfort in her lower belly made her hot and wet between her thighs.

Still watching her face, Ichigo lifted her breast to his mouth and pinched the hard tip between his teeth through the sodden cloth. Orihime jerked, crying out, head falling back, nails digging into his shoulders.

With little maneuvering, they ended up in a wet tangled heap on the backseat, his hard body covering hers. Her legs parted, cradling his lower body between her thighs. Panting, Ichigo rolled hips, and then in circles. Orihime writhed, panting, and ground back just as hard, crying out as sparks of pleasure shot between her legs.

Between clenched teeth, his breath hot and heavy, Ichigo growled. "We have to stop."

Orihime opened her eyes. With one look from those smoldering honey-colored eyes, Ichigo was pressing back to her neglected lips, taking them in a hard kiss, her tongue in his mouth while her nails grazed his scalp.

Groaning, he reciprocated fervently, sinking his fingers in her wet red hair to lift her head so that her mouth was crushed against his. His free hand dipped under her rear and lifted her closer to his throbbing arousal. Her thighs tightened around him.

"If we continued," he hissed once he found his strength to stop kissing her, "I won't be able to stop and we're going to have to stay here for the night. I can't promise to be gentle and it'd be so rough and fucking uncomfortable, especially for you."

The rain had gotten heavier with louder claps of thunder by the time they had reached the house.

Orihime hurried to the bathroom, soaked and shaking. Unbuttoning her sopping blouse was tricky because of her trembling fingers, so after unfastening the first four buttons, she lifted the hem to pull it over her head. However, a thick lock of wet hair got caught in a button. Wincing, she tugged more forcefully but it did not get off.

The door slid open behind her. "Need help?" There was a hint of amusement in Ichigo's tone.

She giggled self-consciously. "Y-Yes, please."

Very tenderly, he helped her out of her shirt, carefully untangling her hair. He bunched the wet blouse in his hand and dropped it to the floor.

"You're shaking."

She tried to smile, hugging herself. A particularly loud thunder rumbled outside, starting her.

As if to soothe her, Ichigo rubbed her arms. He slowly reached behind her back to unhook her bra. Orihime sighed deeply, long lashes touching the swells of her cheeks as she closed her eyes. She lowered her arms and her bra fell to the floor. Opening her eyes, she reached for the hem of his shirt, tentative. Ichigo raised his arms and she tugged it upwards. His shirt soon joined hers on the floor, forgotten. He leaned in and kissed her, his hands skimming her wet sides, the undersides of her breasts, and the curve from her waist to her hips.

His fingers found the button that held her skirt together. Hers unbuttoned his jeans, timid at first, before growing bold, bold enough to pull the tab of his zipper. Ichigo, on the other hand, did not hesitate; he tore the button off and her skirt fell around her feet with a wet _plop_.

"Ichigo-kun, you need to stop ripping my buttons…" she chided softly.

Grinning lazily, Ichigo's fingertips slid along the waistline of her lacy purple panties. "Can't be helped. Besides, you really don't mind, do you?" She flushed deeply with a bit of a pout, and Ichigo put his hands on her ears and kissed her again.

Leisurely, they undressed each other, her lips on his collarbone, his fingers tracing each curve, dip and bone, their wet bodies shuddering, both in cold and desire.

When they were both completely nude, Ichigo slid his hands behind her thighs and lifted her, her legs wrapping around him. He could take her now, right here, standing against the sink or the wall or the door. But this was not going to be a quick, hard fuck. He will take her slowly, taste her slowly, and watch her come in his mouth, in his hands, around him.

Outside, the storm continued to rage. Rain pelted hard against the windows and walls. Rainwater dropped from overhanging gutters. Puddles grew in depth and width. The house was engulfed in the darkness, except for the hallway outside their room.

The door was open; lights from the hallway spilled through the opened door. Ichigo laid her down onto the futon and Orihime sighed with a shiver, burying her head on the pillows even though her hair was still wet. He covered her with his large body to warm her up.

Brushing her hair off her face, his lips traveled along her jaw and neck, kissing, licking and biting, tasting the rain on her skin, on her collarbone, then on each breast, each nipple, the softness of her stomach, bellybutton, and down to the center of her.

"Ichigo-kun…"

He raised his head from between her thighs when he felt her pull at his hair and saw her looking down at him, looking embarrassed but curious. His hands parted her thighs wider and she shyly obliged, face turning redder, eyes wide.

When he lowered his face, Orihime opened her mouth to tell him to stop but his tongue gave her a long, slow lick, and a small scream came out from her mouth instead. "Y-You sh-shouldn't…" she gasped, tugging at his hair, her bucking hips contradicting her plea. Ichigo kissed her deeper, ignoring her gasped protests.

"Y-You can't— _oh!_"

With one hand, she covered her flushed face, turning her face away, biting her lower lip hard to suppress her moans. But no matter how hard she tried to contain them, they still managed to slip free, expressing her enjoyment. Her slick body bowed off the futon, followed by another soft moan.

Ichigo slightly lifted himself to look at her face. Her eyelashes fluttered as she refocused her hazy gaze. He dropped his head between her thighs to taste her again, suckling on her sensitive flesh and Orihime felt dizzy, swept away, hot, scared. Scared, almost terrified, because she feared she was getting addicted to _this, _to _him, _to the idea of being together, the feeling of oneness, of completion.

His mouth focused on the swollen, sensitive knot of nerve endings while his fingers slid deeper until they found the spot that had her gasping frantically and writhing. He gripped her hip tighter, pinning her in place when she tried to move away. As though to reprimand her, he gently nipped her clit, before pulling it inside his mouth, sucking eagerly.

A feeling grabbed hold of her with fierceness, making her cry his name out and arch her back off the futon.

Fully intending to have his fill of her, he licked at her wetness with fervor, the rough side of his tongue sending shivers down her spine and toes before crawling up to her. Panting softly, Orihime wrapped her arms around his shoulders. With his mouth on hers, Ichigo settled between her legs, thrusting into her wet warmth.

Moaning, she hung onto his shoulders and pulled up her knees. Ichigo gripped the back of her thighs before sliding his hands down to her rear, cupping them. They pressed against each other tightly, clung to each other, crushing each other.

The world outside, the storm, the rain which connected the earth and the sky, had faded. They had created another world. Another time, another universe. Here, in this room, free of light, they spiraled out of control, messing up each others' ordered worlds.

:

Outside, the rain got heavier, louder.

Ichigo watched her catch her breath. Her eyes were bright, honey embers, lashes thick with tears. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip hard, chest heaving, skin glistening with thick sweat, and then, her swollen lips parted as she moaned his name, her orgasm crashing over her like a big wave.

One of his hands caressed the back of her moist thigh. He gripped her hip then and thrust deeply, causing her body to writhe, her eyes flying open.

"One more time," he exhaled, face shining with sweat.

Pleasure and lust flashed across her face. Her body, still tingling from orgasm, clenched him with a vice-like grip. Growling, he increased his pace, his thrusts harder, deeper, getting frenzied, out of control.

He kissed her panting, whimpering mouth. "You're so fucking beautiful."

Her eyes glittered.

"I'm afraid," he growled, panting, "I might eat you alive."

"P-Please," she whispered, grabbing a fistful of his hair and slipping her tongue in his mouth to brazenly stroke it with his.

More deep, irregular thrusts, more hard kisses, and she was gasping his name _again_ until she was keening, nails digging into his skin, making him groan. Her ankles were tangled with his sweaty calves, their sweat mixing together. Thick droplets of perspiration trickled down his sinewy back and hard thighs. Her small hands firmly stroked his tense back, from his shoulder blades, spine, sides of his trunk and down to his rear, lingering there, unaware how possessive her grip was.

His large hand cupped the side of her flushed face. Her eyes flickered open, dazzling him with their brightness. Ichigo brushed his lips against her cheek, kissed her ear, and pulled her closer to his body. The speed at which his hips moved turned unmanageable, his body relentlessly pounding her hard on the futon, matching the rhythm of the furious rain. Her moans rose in volume in every thrust, an answer to each groan he made.

Crying out his name, Orihime tossed her head back against the pillow, sobbing and convulsing in sheer ecstasy. Ichigo licked a spot on her neck, tasting her sweat and his. He pressed his nose against her skin; she now smelled like him. She had taken a part of him with her, a permanent kernel of him nestling inside her. And in turn, inside him was a part of her.

He cradled her closer, as though protecting this part of her in him, and came, groaning in her shoulder.

:

They were on their side, facing each other, the blankets barely covering the lower half of their bodies. The yellow light from the hallway created a rectangle of light across the floor.

"It's still raining," she murmured against his neck.

Ichigo opened his eyes. The rain, indeed, had not let up. If anything, it's gotten heavier. But there were no rumbles of thunder neither claps of lightning. It was a calm but heavy downpour.

"How can it rain like this when it was clear yesterday?" asked Orihime sleepily.

"That's how nature works. Unpredictable."

"I've wanted to explore the beach more. But in this weather, it's impossible…" Orihime nuzzled closer, sighing, an arm resting around the small of his back.

He ran a hand through her tangled hair. "We can stay for another night and see if the weather turned clear."

She looked up from his neck. "Is it really okay?"

"I don't mind adjusting my plans if that would you make you happy," he put in quietly.

Orihime smiled radiantly as she thanked him. Absently, Ichigo entwined his fingers with the tips of her hair. They were still damp from rain and from their previous activity.

"Unfortunately, I don't do things for free…"

She blinked slowly, the action half-innocent and half-sultry. "Eh?"

He smirked and closed his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

Ichigo opened his eyes. "What do I get in return?"

She furrowed her eyebrows curiously, an earnest expression on her face. "I don't get it…"

His smirk widened into a lazy grin, his fingers making small circles on her lower back. "Of course you don't."

"Ichigo-kun, what is it?" She insisted lightly.

"Forget it," he drawled.

"I won't," she said with a bit of a determined pout.

"You will." His hand slid under the sheets, caressing her bottom. Orihime gasped in that cute, innocent way of hers. Ichigo leaned closer. "After this."

:

Unfortunately, the rain continued the next day without showing a sign of stopping any time soon. Outside, in the veranda, sitting on the floor was Orihime. A purple knitted stole around her shoulders warded off the chill.

She pulled up her knees to her chest.

"If I were the rain, could I connect with someone's heart, just as it can unite the eternally separated earth and sky?"

"What was that?"

She turned her head to the right to look up to Ichigo's frowning face. He scowled at the torrents of rain and sat down next to her. "Who wrote that?"

"I made it up!" she giggled.

He gave her a sideways glance. "I didn't know I married a poet."

She laughed. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm very ordinary." She looked out to the sky. "It's something I wrote for a school assignment when I was in high school."

"Were you in love when you wrote that?"

She blinked at him.

His eyes darkened. "I'm very possessive, you know."

Orihime turned red, her heart skipping a beat. After calming her racing heartbeat, she replied, "I…" But she trailed off, suddenly feeling lost and terrified at the thoughts racing inside her head, the truth unfolding in her heart.

"What?"

"It wasn't about love." She finally answered.

He arched an eyebrow at her.

"It's about connection between two people despite how far and different they are from each other. Like the rain that unites the sky and the earth, a bond will always connect two persons no matter how vast the distance and differences are."

Laughing, Orihime scratched the top of her head. "It sounds so absurd, doesn't it?"

"No." Ichigo looked up to the grey sky. "It makes perfect sense to me."

One of her hands lifted to catch wayward droplets falling from the eaves. "People usually relate the rain with sadness and crying because they're tear-shaped. But in reality, they're actually shaped like a hamburger bun!"

He frowned at her dubiously. "They're not."

Orihime giggled. "It's true! They are round at first." She made a circle with her hands. "But as they fall, they lose their rounded shape and they become hamburger buns. They have flattened bottom and rounded top! They lose their original shape because of how fast they fall which is at nine meters per second, if they're at least five millimeters in diameter. But if they're bigger, they fall at ten meters per second."

Ichigo reached out and took her wet hand in his. A feeling surged through Orihime, coming from their joined hands. "I don't care if they're rain burgers but this weather is fucking uncooperative."

"It's okay! Maybe you could give me a tour and show me how wonderful this house is?" she quipped, curious about what could be found at the second floor.

He got to his feet and helped her up. "You mean how old this house is," he deadpanned.

The rain persisted until late afternoon. As requested, he brought her to the second floor after lunch and showed her the library with ceiling-high shelves of books, a small office, and the storage room full of junk like a turntable, LPs, an old-fashioned guitar, old magazines, paintings, and dusty toys.

Orihime now sat on the floor of the same veranda, reading a book of poems. Ichigo appeared behind her, sitting down. Stray hairs from her long auburn braid coiled around her neck. Enticed by the odd coloring, he rubbed the strands between his fingers, frowning. A blend of reds, oranges, honey, and gold, merged together.

Suddenly Orihime sat upright, a tremor wracking her body when his fingertips brushed the sensitive hairs on her nape. Wide-eyed, she turned her face toward him.

Ichigo fully pressed his palm on her nape, his eyes on her parted lips. Held by his large hand, her neck felt more fragile than a flower stem. He leaned closer until he could feel her nervous, quick breaths on his face.

Seeing her reaction, her breathlessness, the shiver that raced through her, the way she leaned toward him as though pulled by invisible strings, his lips quirked up in a small smile. Her eyes dropped to his mouth, fascinated, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

Ichigo pulled away abruptly, startling Orihime out of her heated daze.

Avoiding her gaze, Ichigo lay supine on the floor, tucking his arms under his head to use them as a pillow.

"Read to me."

As she did, he found the sound of her voice strangely mesmerizing. He had never heard anything as charming and hypnotizing as it was before.

After two poems, his cell phone rang. Orihime paused in her reading, and scowling, Ichigo sat up and took out his cell phone.

"What is it?"

"Your Imperial Highness," a voice answered. It was not Ishida's, which caused Ichigo's scowl to deepen.

"Toshiro."

"It's Hitsugaya," the caller enunciated with a hint of irritation.

"Same thing. You're using Uryu's phone."

"This is a secured line."

Pause.

From the corner of his eye, Ichigo saw Orihime respectfully turned away, facing the rain. He got to his feet, patted Orihime on the shoulder and indicated to her that he'll be inside.

"What is it?" He stood by a window inside a room.

Hitsugaya told him.

Ichigo looked out to the garden and rain. "All of them?"

Hitsugaya answered, elaborating but Ichigo interrupted him.

"Stop. We'll talk about this tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

Ichigo turned off his phone and stared outside. Sliding his phone into his pocket, he stepped out of the room. Orihime was still at the veranda, turning the pages carefully. Her braid shifted to the side when she moved her head slightly, the only bright thing in the gloomy picture of rain and dark clouds.

She chose a sonnet and recited it in her soft, sweet voice. It blended with the sound of rain, reminding him of a past, of a promise made one rainy day.

Ichigo listened, face hidden in the shadows.

:

As soon as they arrived, Ishida reported that Ichigo had a guest. He gave a nod, going in the direction of his office. But something held him back, causing him to look over his shoulder to see Hinamori fuss over a smiling Orihime who smothered the younger girl with a bear hug.

"I trust you had a pleasant vacation, sir."

Ichigo scowled heavily at his friend. "What the hell are you implying?" Ishida rarely gave random comments. Unless related to their subject matter, Ishida did not waste his breath on senseless talks.

"It's a comment. It doesn't mean a thing. Unless, you wish to give further details about your short vacation, we'll listen."

Ichigo's expression darkened into an irritated glower. Ignoring the remark wisely, he resumed his pace and asked for updates instead.

"Hitsugaya-san has the complete report. It's a very recent development. The announcement will probably take place next week."

In a corridor directly two floors above Ichigo and Ishida, Orihime and Hinamori were joined by an ecstatic Rangiku.

"Oh my, you're absolutely glowing, princess!"

Orihime pressed her palms to her red cheeks. "R-Really?"

"Positive! Oh, I wonder why…" Rangiku's smile broadened, blue eyes alight with mischief. "You have this radiant glow of an incredibly satiated woman." Ignoring Hinamori's scandalized expression, Rangiku continued, taking on a serious face. "How many times did you ride the pony?"

Hinamori spluttered next to Orihime, while the latter simply blinked at the question. "…ride the pony?"

Before Rangiku could further elaborate, Hinamori cut in, looking appalled. "Rangiku-san, that's very improper!" She was ignored yet again as the blonde went on, using plainer but blunt words to make Orihime understand.

"How many times did you two—"

"Rangiku-san!" cried Hinamori indignantly.

"—have sex?"

In her shock, Orihime stumbled forward, squeaking loudly. "R-Rangiku-san!"

Hinamori was quick to defend her. "Respect her privacy, Rangiku-san!"

"As one of her mentors, it is my obligation to teach her about facts of life."

Hinamori was red-faced, both in exasperation and embarrassment. "Her Highness doesn't need you interfering with her personal life!"

But the older woman was undeterred, focusing on the blushing princess. "So how many times did you do it? You can't remember? Is it too many to count?" Orihime gaped, eyes wide. "Ooh, this is exciting! In a few months time, there would be a lot of little orange-headed kids bawling and running down the corridors!"

Orihime stared at her blonde friend with a strange look in her eyes. Hinamori noticed this.

"Rangiku-san, that's enough! You're embarrassing her!"

"What's this commotion about?" Nanao soon came into view, a stern frown on her face. "I can hear your voices down the hallway. This is so unbecoming! And arguing in the presence of the Crown Princess? How disrespectful!"

Orihime snapped out of her daze to defend her new friends. "A-Ah, Nanao-san, they're not arguing. They're just involved in a rather energetic conversation."

"You would not believe this, Ise-san! Rangiku-san is—"

"Oh, it's nothing, Nanao." Rangiku waved a dainty hand, interrupting the younger girl. "It's a girl talk. Young Hinamori here clearly isn't ready to hear about it. So uptight! You need to loosen up a little, live a little. Perhaps you should ask Toshiro to help you relax, ne, Hi-na-mori-_chan?_"

Hinamori's eyes widened, her face turning bright red. Before she could retort, Nanao cut in with a curt "Enough." She turned to Orihime who looked distracted. "Are you all right?"

"O-Oh! Yes, thank you."

"Are you certain?"

"I'm perfectly all right! I had a wonderful short vacation so I'm worry-free. For now, at least!"

"Define 'wonderful'," Rangiku piped in. Nanao and Hinamori gave the blonde a sharp look, while Orihime turned crimson.

That night, after dinner, wearing a loose, white nightdress, Orihime stared at herself in the vanity mirror. Something about what Rangiku had mentioned strangely unsettled her.

Without thought, her hands rested on her stomach.

She'd love to have children one day; two boys and a girl; or two girls and a boy; perhaps four, all boys, all bright-haired like their father and just as handsome. But, being the person she really was, she was not fit to be a mother. This was not an ideal environment for a child. As soon as her husband found out who she was, what would his reaction be? He'd hate her and have her jailed or worst, executed. Who would not be repulsed with her? If around that time she had already bore a child, what would Ichigo do with their offspring? He was kind and will never harm an innocent but she could not stop herself from fearing what her child's future would be.

She tugged at the thin necklace, pulling it from inside her top until blue flowers appeared.

_Nii-chan, what should I do?_

There was one perfect solution. Perhaps the only option there was. But the thought of not having a child with Ichigo was painful. She wrapped an arm around her as though trying to contain her feelings, afraid she'll break apart from the pain filling her.

Her musings were interrupted when she heard approaching footfalls and Ichigo's voice calling her name. She quickly fixed her face and decided to worry about her predicament some other time.

* * *

><p><strong>notes. <strong>this chapter would not be here if it weren't for rairakku-hana. Many, many thanks to her awesomeness for reading through my draft despite her busy schedule 8D

THANK YOU. THANK YOU. for reading and most importantly, leaving reviews! :)

SO.

UM HAHA SMUT. heh /covers face. I hope it was passable :P i'm sure, by now, you guys have realized i wrote a lot of filler. :D in any case, i hope you guys were entertained.


	11. she

**godsend** **  
><strong>she **  
><strong>

:

At a table near a full bookshelf, Orihime was hunched over a pile of papers. After jotting down the final paragraph for her essay, she pushed the papers to the side and sorted through the books inside her satchel. She found the old copy of Kawabata's _Palm-of-the-hand Stories. _It was her brother's and the only item she had brought from her apartment.

Orihime leafed through the pages, pausing occasionally to read the notes penciled in the margins, smiling wistfully as she traced the familiar handwriting. In her profound preoccupation, she did not notice Rangiku enter the library and take the seat next to her.

"So," drawled Rangiku in her ear. Orihime jumped in surprise, eyes huge as she looked to her right.

Afternoon sunlight entered through a bay window, penetrating the thin white drapes. It cast a faded glow over Rangiku's blond hair, and the playful glint in her eyes made them bluer. Orihime's mouth formed a curious 'o' when an arm curled around her shoulders and locked her in place.

"I need _all _the juicy details. Spill it."

Orihime had looked confused at first then her expression became mortified, and she looked away. Rangiku nudged her but she determinedly kept her gaze on the cover of the book she was gripping tightly.

"Are you alright," asked Rangiku, sounding genuinely worried; Orihime's face had turned so red it was almost possible to outdo the color of her hair.

"I-I am," Orihime stuttered with a stiff nod, still very scarlet in the face.

The grin on Rangiku's face got wider. "Was it really that good?"

Orihime jerked. "R-Rangiku-san!" she gasped in embarrassment, hands on her face. With the level of blushing she was having, it should not be possible to get redder in the face but Orihime's did. Rangiku laughed with a toss of her magnificent head, causing Orihime to puff out her cheeks.

"All right, all right, I won't ask for details. But you enjoyed it, right?" Orihime bit her lip and did not reply. "Don't be shy. We're both women so it's all right!"

Rangiku waited patiently, watching Orihime's face. Her expression had turned serene, looking as though she was imagining beautiful scenery.

"Ichigo-kun was very k-kind, gentle…" Her voice was soft, and the gentle smile on her face made her even more endearing. "And…" She blushed suddenly, and she was again determinedly avoiding Rangiku's eyes.

"That means yes, right?"

Her honey-colored eyes had luminous glint in them when she looked up. There was something innocent in them despite their subject matter, and it prompted Rangiku to stop her teasing – if only for a moment – and gave Orihime an encouraging smile. In reply, Orihime gave a quick nod and covered her red face with both hands when Rangiku gave another amused titter.

"My, my, still very shy." Rangiku patted the back of her head. "You know, there's nothing wrong with enjoying intimate moments with your husband. It's natural to take pleasure in physical intimacies. The important thing is that you're not being forced into it. If it was something you want, then what's not to enjoy?"

The fidgeting returned with full force, a new concern cropping up hard. "B-But w-what if I… I'm n-not sure if I… W-What if he…"

"Speak clearly, lady."

Orihime took a deep breath. "W-What if I-I disappointed him?" Her voice sounded brittle, shaking. "I-I think… I d-did something w-wrong!"

Rangiku frowned.

Orihime looked down, feeling ashamed. "I'm so selfish, aren't I? I'm sure he didn't l-liked it as m-m-much as I did because I'm an idiot and inexperienced and—"

"I've had enough!" Rangiku interjected, holding up a hand. "First off, you're not selfish. Here you are, stuttering and feeling bad. Which is, by the way, stupid, if you ask me. Second, you're not an idiot. Yes, you're inexperienced but it doesn't mean you're stupid!" Despite these reassurances, Orihime was still distressed.

"You don't need to be worried." Rangiku squeezed Orihime's shoulder. "There's no right way and wrong way in sex." Rangiku gave a small laugh as Orihime turned red at the last word. "It's about being happy! To be honest, one doesn't really need to be 'experienced' to enjoy sex. Instincts, urges, feelings – those are what matter. It's pretty obvious you two are attracted to each other so I'm sure he enjoyed it as much as you did."

Orihime swallowed. Was she really that obvious? And Ichigo, attracted to her? The thought was absurd. He could have anyone he wanted; someone prettier, more intelligent, and truly elegant.

"And who would not enjoy shagging a little hottie like you?" Rangiku said teasingly.

"Ra-Rangiku-san!" Orihime sputtered, hiding her red face. Chuckling, Rangiku shook her head at her shyness.

"Relax, darling. Next time you two do it, use your imagination and just, you know, enjoy it, enjoy him. Because it's something you want and you want him."

You want him.

This was an essential truth. And she was afraid to discover more truths.

"Anyway," Rangiku leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, "wanna hear some tips?"

Orihime stared at her, eyes huge. "Tips?"

A grin almost split Rangiku's face into two. It made Orihime think of a fictional cat. "Don't worry, I'll teach you different tricks!" She put on her strict teacher face and said in a serious tone, "There are so many techniques to choose from. From basics to advanced techniques, guaranteed to make your love life more exciting. There are role plays, different positions, costu—"

"I hope I am mishearing you, Matsumoto-san," a new voice cut in coolly.

Both women jumped in surprise. "Oops?" Rangiku quipped drolly as she turned her head to face the owner of the voice.

Nanao was staring down at her sternly. "May I," she began testily, "remind you that you are employed here to teach our Crown Princess about etiquette, proper gait and posture, and dress code?"

Rangiku huffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "She already knows those things. Besides, why was it me who got to teach all that boring stuff?" It seemed that they were the wrong words to say because Nanao's already narrowed eyes became narrower, her lips were very thin, and there was a vein bulging in her neck. Rangiku must have sensed an impending explosive reprimand because she quickly made her exit after a hasty but playful goodbye to Orihime, telling her that their 'extracurricular' lesson will be continued some other time.

"You did a great job today." Nanao told Orihime, still frowning but looking somewhat pleased. That morning, Orihime had had participated in a welcome reception.

Orihime smiled gratefully, relieved. "Thank you, Nanao-san. I was nervous at first. I'm so glad Ichigo-kun was there with me. If he wasn't, I don't think I'd remember what to do and say. Despite all the things you've taught me, I still feel very nervous whenever someone important starts a conversation with me. I'm afraid I'd say something silly and embarrass Ichigo-kun and his family."

"You just need a lot of practice. That's why you need to attend more parties and receptions so that you'll get used to talking to people of high rank." Nanao frowned at the notepad she held in her hand. "That reminds me. I got a call from Ishida-san. Kuchiki Byakuya is having a party to honor contemporary artists. You and the Crown Prince are invited."

Orihime's eyes became very round, a nervous look appearing on her face. "There's going to be a lot of people, isn't there?"

"About two-hundred, I imagine."

:

Three days later, in a scarlet embroidered chiffon a-line dress with a black ribbon around her waist, Orihime fidgeted in the backseat of the car. Her hair was curled up in a casual updo, held together by blue pins, revealing her pale neck. She was not used to her neck being bare; it made her feel vulnerable, but Hinamori had looked very happy with her work so she got along with it.

"Your Highness." Orihime looked away from the window. Hisagi, who sat in the passenger seat, handed her a cell phone.

Taking the proffered device, Orihime pressed it to her ear. "Ichigo-kun? Hi, am I late?" she asked worriedly.

"Actually, I called to tell you that I'm going to be late."

"Did something happen?"

On the other line, Ichigo's ergonomic chair squeaked forward.

"My last meeting ran late. I'll get there as soon as I'm done." His voice lowered. "With or without me, you'll do fine. Just be yourself."

"Thank you," she whispered, her heart fluttering.

"I have to go. I'll see you later at the party."

The Kuchiki family mansion had four floors, modern and as elegant as Kuchiki Byakuya himself. She was escorted to a vast room with French doors that opened to patios. It was decorated in white and pale gold, with round white hanging lanterns, light strings and vases of white orchids along the walls.

Her presence was announced and it was mostly smiling thereafter. Hisagi and her other guards maintained their distance, opting to blend in with the crowd. Orihime smiled at everyone present – artists, businessmen, upper-class professionals, remarkably pretty and fashionable women – thanked them politely for their compliments, and smiled more. She tried to feel at ease at being the center of attention, but she knew she'll never get used to it. She did not have to, anyway.

Rangiku's all of a sudden appearance was a pleasant surprise.

"Rangiku-san!" she exclaimed, delighted to see a familiar face. "You didn't tell me you'll be here."

Her mentor, stunning in blue cocktail dress, gestured to the man standing beside her. "Gin invited me."

"We've met before, didn't we, Princess?"

In all honesty, Orihime found his grinning face disconcerting. Perhaps it was because despite his friendly smile, there was something about him that made her uneasy. But she smiled politely and nodded.

"You were with Aizen-san before."

His grin widened. "Flattered ta know I wasn't forgotten." Turning to Rangiku, he offered his arm to her. "Shall we go, Rangiku?"

"I hope you don't leave me on my own and go off with Aizen."

"You know it always breaks my heart ta leave ya."

Placing a hand on the crook of Gin's elbow, Rangiku shook her head, looking unimpressed. "I only accepted your invitation because of curiosity and free champagne." With one last smile at Orihime, the couple walked off.

Another guest and his date, a beautiful foreigner who spoke their language perfectly, turned up to talk with Orihime.

"My, how truly stunning you are in person, Your Highness."

"Thank you. Your words are too kind, ma'am."

Amongst the many guests, a young woman with dark hair observed Orihime with interest.

After a chat with a well-dressed and impeccably articulate woman, Orihime informed Hisagi that she will be in the patio to get some air. Crystal lanterns lit the terrace. Up above, the moon peeked through the clouds.

Leaning against a railing, she heaved a deep breath and enjoyed the silence and cool breeze.

A moment later, however, two pairs of footsteps entered and incensed voices filled the silence.

Curious, Orihime turned toward the voices and there, standing a few steps away from her were two figures. One of them had a slim stature, but her voice was sharp and confident. The other was a tall man with red hair tied in a ponytail and a thick black headband. He looked rather unapproachable with those black markings on his face, causing Orihime to eye the tall man with something akin to horror and curiosity. _What has he done with his eyebrows?_

The peeved look on the woman's face became more pronounced. Both of them were unaware of their confused audience.

"I don't get why you have to follow me. I'm not a child who needs to be coddled." The woman was saying hotly. The man scowled, opening his mouth but the woman continued, "I'm in my brother's home. Surely, there is no need for you to watch over me in such a highly secured place."

"I'm not coddling you. I'm spending time with you."

She looked stunned for a long moment.

Orihime grabbed the chance to speak. "Um, excuse me?" Both started and turned their heads toward her. "H-Hi, Kuchiki-san."

A look of surprise passed over Rukia's face. "Your Highness." She dipped her head forward in respect. "What are you doing here? Is there something wrong?"

"Oh, everything's perfect, Kuchiki-san! I just wanted to get some air." She cut the tall man a sheepish glance. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to intrude."

"It's all right." The irritated look on Rukia's face returned and she gestured to the man beside her without looking at him. "This is Abarai Renji."

"Yo."

An elbow to the stomach forced the redhead to bow. "Show some manners, Renji!"

"Oof! Okay, okay… Jeez. Er, good evening, ma'am."

Orihime responded with a smile. Rukia frowned. "Where's Ichigo? He isn't with you?"

"Oh, he's on his way."

Still frowning, Rukia nodded in understanding. "If you don't mind, I could accompany you while you wait for him." Turning to the redhead beside her, Rukia smiled sweetly, though her eyes remained sharp. "You need not to escort me, Renji. Why don't you go and attach yourself to my brother's hip or something?"

Without waiting for his reply, Rukia walked up to Orihime and put a hand on her elbow, guiding her back inside.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Rukia said after a few minutes as they weaved through the chatting guests. The string quartet was playing _Moon River_. Next to them, a white piano gleamed like a new machine.

"It was I who should apologize. I felt like I have intruded. I'm sorry," Orihime responded with a nervous smile, anxious that she had offended Rukia.

"It was nothing, really. Just a silly squabble, is all." A waiter passed by and offered them each a glass of wine. Rukia arched an amused eyebrow at the curious look Orihime was casting at her glass. "What's wrong?"

"O-Oh!" Orihime blushed shyly. "Um, I've never drunk wine before," she confessed softly.

Rukia smiled, looking amused. "Well, there's always a first time in everything." Orihime beamed back, her feelings of nervousness evaporating slowly at the sight of Rukia smiling. She took a small sip. It tasted bitter and strong, creating a burning sensation as the liquid slid down her throat, causing Orihime to wrinkle her nose. Rukia let out a small chuckle upon seeing her expression.

"You'll get used to it, trust me."

"I h-hope so! Umm, Kuchiki-san?" Rukia raised one elegant eyebrow inquiringly. Orihime smiled innocently. "You and Abarai-kun seem close."

A flush rose to Rukia's cheeks as she glared off to the side. "He stays close to me because my brother told him so."

"But he looks hurt when you sent him away…" Rukia turned to stare at her unblinkingly, causing Orihime to panic. "Oh no, no, I-I'm sorry, Kuchiki-san!"

"Don't be." Rukia shook her head and frowned again. "And I doubt it. That man's too insensitive that it'll take a dozen of beatings to hurt him."

"If you don't mind me asking, how long have you known each other?"

"Since we're children," Rukia said. "Our family valet adopted Renji when he was toddler. When the valet died, Renji replaced him and worked closely with my brother. They're always together."

Orihime looked around and caught a glimpse of red hair of a tall man. He was looking around, his eyebrows furrowed, making his face even more intimidating. When his eyes fell upon them, specifically on Rukia, his frown deepened. Kuchiki Byakuya appeared behind him and spoke to him. With one last look at Rukia, Renji followed Byakuya and they disappeared in the crowd.

"How have you found your husband so far? I hope Ichigo's not terrifying you with his awful face and equally awful personality. He's such a sour character."

"Oh, Ichigo-kun's not like that," Orihime protested gently. Rukia raised an eyebrow, causing Orihime to blush deeply as she explained. "I-I mean, his face is not awful at all. He's very, very good-looking, as a matter of fact! He's also very kind and even offered to teach me how to swim!"

Rukia looked half amused, half skeptical. "Are you sure we are talking about _the _scowling, short-tempered, sour Ichigo? The Crown Prince you married last spring?"

"U-Un!"

"I can't believe it. Ichigo is nothing but sullen and hot-tempered. Having his heart on your little palm must have redeemed him."

Orihime dropped her eyes. "It's n-nothing like that," she said quietly. Rukia emptied her glass before putting it on a nearby table.

"I am aware of the circumstances of your marriage." Orihime looked at Rukia nervously. "I may have enjoyed maligning Ichigo behind his back but I know his heart is in the right place and I want, with all my heart, to see him happy. You seem to be the type of person he'll get strongly attached to so I hope in due course you'll learn to care for him in a way a wife cares for her husband."

"Kuchiki-san…"

"Like you said, he's very kind. It wouldn't be too hard, would it?"

"I…"

Rukia reached over to pat Orihime on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it. You'll get there eventually. For the time being, enjoy the wine while he's not here." Rukia took two new glasses of wine from a passing waiter. "Ichigo rarely drinks. He doesn't like alcoholic beverages that much, that old-fashioned sourpuss."

Giggling lightly, Orihime took the wineglass from Rukia. "Thank you!" Sipping slowly, she eventually got use to the taste. "Mm, you're right, Kuchiki-san. It's not as strong as before!"

With a self-satisfied smile, Rukia raised the glass to her lips.

While they drank and chatted, a man in black suit came over. "Kuchiki-dono." Both women looked up. "Your brother wishes to speak with you."

"All right." Rukia smoothed down her skirt gracefully. "Excuse me for a moment."

Orihime nodded with a large smile. "Take your time! I'll be here." Rukia seemed to hesitate to leave, but she nodded and left.

As soon as Rukia left, her eyebrows knitted in concern as Orihime wondered on what had been taking Ichigo this long to arrive. Had something happened? But if something did, Hisagi would inform her right away, would not he?

Her eyes flickered over the musicians; they were now playing _She_. Orihime lifted the glass to her lips when a hand curled around her wrist, stopping her. Startled, she looked down to the large hand then to her right, blinking at the man holding her wrist.

He smiled at her, resplendent in a black suit and cream-colored tie. "How many glasses have you had so far?" She turned red in the face, embarrassed. "I don't think your husband will approve."

:

As expected, flashes of light greeted Ichigo's vision as soon as he stepped out of the car. This only caused his scowl to deepen as he glared at the line of photographers. One of them boldly came forward, clicking his camera away. Sado stepped in between the overzealous photographer and Ichigo, his tall, muscular frame instantly sending the smaller man into retreating.

Inside the function room, Ichigo exchanged succinct greetings with other guests, hardly remembering their faces and names, except those he knew and worked with personally.

"Excuse me, I need to find someone." He left quickly, scanning the large room with a frown. He was interrupted a couple of times of people who approached him but he always managed to excuse himself and leave before the conversation could ever begun.

There was, however, one exception.

"Ichigo."

He turned to face the owner of the voice he had known for a very long time.

"Senna."

Senna smiled up at him. "Hi. It's been a long time, hasn't it? How have you been?"

"Busy," he replied with a small smile. "When did you arrive?"

"Two days ago. It's unfortunate that I wasn't able to attend your wedding. The papers said it was beautiful."

"I didn't expect you'd be here. You said you'll stay in Paris for two years."

"Things changed," she answered quietly. Ichigo nodded and searched the crowd again. Senna noticed this.

"Are you looking for someone?"

He nodded. "I am."

"Who are you looking for?"

"My wife."

Senna laughed and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "It's weird to hear those words from you. It's unbelievable. This is not like you."

Looking nonchalant, Ichigo raised an eyebrow at her. "Why, what am I like?"

Her look of composure cracked, but only for a second. "I'm surprised, is all. You readily agreed to marry someone you didn't know. Last time we talked, you said…" Her words trailed off, uncertain how to continue. Her hesitation did not last long, however. She straightened her back and looked at him in the eye.

"You said that you'd rather marry someone you know than marry a stranger."

"And when I proposed, you said no."

His tone was blasé, but it still stirred a feeling within her. "Ichigo, you know how important my career is to me. If I married you, I'll have to quit dancing and ballet is a huge part of who I am." Ichigo said nothing. "But I realized that there are more important things in life. I was ready to return last April. But I heard the news of your engagement and I—"

"Senna," Ichigo said.

"You must think I've regretted my decision," she murmured.

He shook his head. "No. Like you said, I know how important your dreams are to you. And you're right; if you married me, you'll have to give up your dreams and you'll be stuck in the palace all your life. I don't want that to happen to you."

"Ichigo…"

He smiled slightly and glanced around again. Senna had to wonder what kind of woman this Inoue Orihime was to hold Ichigo's attention like a marching band.

"She's right over there." If he noticed a hint of vexation in her tone, he did not show it. He blinked at her and followed her gaze.

Because she was watching him, Senna noticed an abrupt change in his expression. His expression had turned stony and it was hard to read the look in his eyes, but she could tell it was not pleasant.

"She's beautiful, Ichigo." He remained silent, eyes heavy lidded. "Her beauty is definitely outstanding. Outstanding enough," she paused to study his reaction, "to catch _his _attention."

It did not, however, incite a response from Ichigo who still looked unmoved. "Shall we join them, Ichigo?" He looked at her, frowning. "I want to meet her. She seems interesting. Don't tell me you don't want your wife to meet me?" she added with a mischievous smile when he did not reply.

"Nervous I might let slip something?" She laughed at his perplexed expression. "Just kidding! It's not like we have a secret or something, right?" Ichigo's frown deepened. Senna continued, "Unless you consider you asking me to marry you a secret. Don't want to let her know she was a second choice?"

"It doesn't matter." He shook his head when a waiter offered him a drink. "Let's go."

:

"You look beautiful."

She turned red and gave a shy smile. "Thank you, sir."

"I hope you're adjusting well."

"Yes. Everyone's been very helpful."

He nodded, still smiling his magnetic smile, nodding and saying hello to each guest who passed by them.

"And your husband?" he said.

"Supportive," she answered simply, not comfortable with discussing her marriage. Rukia was different; she's a good friend of Ichigo. On the other hand, Aizen was the Minister of Foreign Affairs and came from the old rival clan of the Imperial Family. Like the Kurosaki family, the Aizen clan descended from Seiwa Genji.

"I'm glad. Our Crown Prince, if you read the newspapers, is not very genial."

Orihime gave a small smile. "I understand how difficult it was to suddenly marry a stranger."

"That's true." He nodded and swirled the contents of his glass. "Most especially if you already have someone you wish to marry."

Something lurched inside her. Stiff and suddenly feeling numb, Orihime stared at him, unable to mask her surprise and confusion.

"I heard that he proposed, perhaps to the only girl he genuinely liked, but was rejected." He must have noticed her expression for he added, "Oh? Didn't he tell you?"

Orihime tried to ignore the dull throbbing in her chest, but to no avail. She had felt this before. It was the same horrible feelings that exasperated her when she found out that Ichigo had spent an afternoon with Rukia on his birthday. It was frustrating and shameful, but she could not help but admit to herself that she was jealous of yet another woman.

_Get a grip of yourself, _she did not matter. It did not matter if he was in love with someone.

But she desperately wished that she would stop _hurting._

She gave a wan smile, hoping her voice and face were not betraying her emotions.

"I don't think it matters if he told me or not."

He smiled kindly, brown eyes twinkling. "You have a point. It's not important anymore. You two are now married. Yes, it was an arranged marriage but I'm sure, in time, you two will create a strong bond." He leaned closer to her. "Besides, you're a very beautiful woman."

Orihime's brow furrowed, confused and surprised at the same time. She did not expect to hear that.

Aizen's handsome face broke into another smile and something seemed to stir in his dark eyes. "It's not difficult to be enamored of you."

"That's a very keen observation, Aizen."

Orihime flinched and spun around.

:

"Ichigo-kun!"

Ichigo glanced at her. Her expression had brightened at the sight of him. But just as soon as he had noticed this, it faded. The corners of her mouth turned down, honey-colored eyes flickering to the side, looking as though she had recalled something painful. She seemed to collect herself after a moment, met his eyes and smiled warmly.

He watched her closely for a second then leveled Aizen with a cool gaze. "You don't mind me cutting in, do you?" He was smiling lazily, but his eyes were indifferent as he took Orihime's hand.

"Not at all." Aizen beamed. "I believe this is my cue to leave." He turned to Orihime. "Thank you for your time. I enjoyed spending time with you." Orihime colored slightly. With one last nod at Ichigo, Aizen brushed past the Crown Prince.

He turned to Orihime, frowning down at her. "What did he talk to you about?" Orihime stiffened and looked down, but Ichigo did not miss the brief flash of pain in her eyes.

"Nothing important," she answered quietly. He narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to demand more answers, but Senna interrupted him.

"Aren't you going to introduce me, Ichigo?"

In front of him, Orihime lifted her head, regarding the woman in a swath of black beside him with curiosity. He nodded, still watching Orihime.

"Orihime, this is Senna. Senna, my wife, Orihime."

"Hello," said Senna.

"Good evening."

Senna's lips curved in a smile. "You have a fitting name." Then she gave Orihime a casual onceover. "And perfectly polite with amazing fashion sense."

Orihime smiled shyly. "I had a lot of help."

"That's good." She turned to Ichigo, smiling in a way as if she was amused by something. "They chose a suitable replacement, didn't they, Ichigo?"

He felt Orihime stiffen, her smile losing its softness. An odd expression had flitted over her face before she smiled again. But the smile she was giving now was carefully civil, not warm, but polite.

"Yes, they did," she said, still smiling in that peculiar way. "And they're training me well." A flash of recognition flickered in her eyes. Then she faced him fully, unsmiling once more. The weight of her gaze felt staggeringly heavy but it was only brief, her eyes dropping to stare past his ear.

"Your Highness," she began. The distance in her tone and the usage of formal address made him narrow his eyes. "Please excuse me. I need to speak with Rangiku-san."

"Senna," Ichigo dragged out after Orihime left.

"What," she said, blinking innocently. "What did I do?"

He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "We'll catch up some other time."

"Can we meet tomorrow?" Ichigo frowned. "You said we'll catch up," Senna added quickly. "If you're busy tomorrow, we can meet up the day after tomorrow. I don't mind waiting for your schedule to clear up."

When Ichigo said nothing, she said, "Please."

"What time," Ichigo finally asked.

Senna gave a wide smile. "Around dinner time, if that's okay."

Ichigo appeared to ponder this, and then he nodded. "Where are you staying? I'll send a car for you."

:

The dull throbbing had returned with vengeance. It cropped hard in her chest, overcoming her. Replacement. No, _no_, she was not. She was a tool, picked by the Boss to fulfill a task. She was here for a mission, for information, for her brother. Not for love, not for happy ever after. Therefore she had no right to feel hurt— No, she thought firmly. She was _not _hurt; it was just a silly stomachache or a bad case of heartburn. This nagging ache was irrelevant.

Orihime found Rangiku in the patio, leaning against a railing, clutching a bottle of wine and a wineglass. "Rangiku-san?"

Blonde hair swirled around. "Oh, you're here!"

"Where's your escort?"

Rangiku shrugged. "With Aizen, I'm sure, to who-knows-where. Well, it's not important! We have free food and," she tapped the bottle, grinning, "A bottle of Chardonnay! But I only have one glass. Oh, wait here!" She shoved the bottle in Orihime's hand.

"But Rangiku-san—" But the woman had already disappeared inside and reappeared a minute later.

"Tadah! A glass for you!" She poured herself a glass. "Mmm, excellent!" She smacked her lips together, grinned and emptied her glass. "As usual, this party is full of pompous aristocrats."

"I met and talked with Kuchiki-san. She's very nice."

"Hmm… Hey, you're not drinking! Drink up!"

"Oh, I've already drunk a few glasses."

"Aww, come on~ I can't drink this whole bottle by myself! Drink with me."

"B-But…"

Rangiku was already filling her glass. "This is an excellent wine! You've been working so hard these days. Just for today, unwind, relax, and have a bit of fun!"

Orihime bit her lower lip, unsure; she already felt warm with an odd feeling of heaviness. Rangiku playfully fluttered her eyelashes at her. Giving in, she lifted the glass to her lips.

"Great! Cheers!"

The bottle of Chardonnay was half-empty when Rangiku's escort found them. "What now?" she snorted, frowning uncharacteristically.

Gin grinned at Orihime before addressing Rangiku. "I've been lookin' all over fer ya."

"Oh please." Rangiku crossed her arms below her breasts. "Don't kid me."

"Ran-chan, I don't think it's wise to have this conversation in front of ta Crown Princess." Gin took her elbow. "Let's talk about this in private." Rangiku rolled her eyes and marched inside. Gin gave Orihime a nod, still wearing his grin and followed Rangiku.

With a sigh, Orihime put down her glass and leaned her hip against the railing. Eyes closed, she rubbed her temple. A cold breeze passed by and she savored it, but the warmth brought about by the wine soon faded and she began to shiver. She welcomed the chill anyway, using it to numb the pain —_no, _it was just a silly heartburn.

A tear escaped and she hurriedly swiped it. She had to be strong. There was no time to get jealous and insecure over the women who shared significant affiliation with Ichigo.

Her brother used to tell her it was not healthy to repress emotions. If you're angry, be angry. If you're sad, be sad. _It's okay to cry, Orihime, it doesn't mean you're weak. _But that was when he was here and this is now. He left. Missing, to be precise.

Sora would have been right, had it another time, had she been a normal girl. The need to bury, repress, and ignore what she felt was a necessity. She cannot afford to acknowledge them because once she did, they will overwhelm her and she cannot— _will not_ let it happen.

She had to find him. She _will _find him.

"What the hell were you thinking? It's fucking cold out here!"

She started. Then something warm engulfed her shoulders before she was spun around and became face to face with Ichigo. He looked angry, eyes ablaze, making her nervous and her pulse to race.

"I-I'm sorry… I didn't—" She gasped when he jerked her forward to his chest. His arms curled around her like steel bands. Without thinking, as though it was the most natural thing to do, Orihime twined her arms around his middle, burying her face in his chest. His body heat warmed her up instantly, one of his hands stroking the back of her tense neck.

With a sigh, Orihime snuggled closer to him. It was odd how his presence made her feel at ease now when it was he – or something related to him – who had made her unhappy in the first place.

"Let's go home."

She looked up from his chest. "We're leaving?"

He observed her, still supporting her neck, and Orihime hoped he did not see what she hid, what she felt. "You look tired."

She did feel tired, a bone-deep type of tiredness that does not fade after a long sleep.

"I'm fine," she said as she tried to smile.

He scowled. "You're not a good liar."

Orihime smiled sheepishly. Ichigo just shook his head. "But is it all right? You just arrived."

"To hell with this party," he grunted.

"I'm glad you're finally here, Ichigo-kun." Orihime laid her head against his chest. "I was getting worried that something might have happened to you." She felt his arms tighten around her.

"How was your evening?"

She looked up with a smile. "I managed to make a decent conversation with everyone who came over to talk to me. There were times that I didn't know if I was doing it right. I don't want to make a mistake and embarrass you and your family and disappoint all the people who've been helping me. I… I…" Her eyelashes lowered. "I want to show them that even though I'm a commoner, I can be a little elegant too."

He pulled her closer and whispered in her neck, "You don't have to be elegant. You're fine the way you are."

Orihime could swear her whole face was red, even her ears and neck. He lifted his face from her neck, crooking an eyebrow at her furious blushing. "I-I also talked to Kuchiki-san!" she said hurriedly.

"You meant Rukia, right?"

"Un! At first, I was nervous because she's so elegant and beautiful I'm afraid I'll make a fool out of myself. But she talked to me as though we knew each other for years. We even drank wine together!" At this, Ichigo wrinkled his nose in disapproval. "How long have you been friends with her?"

"Since I was sixteen."

"No wonder she knows you very well."

Ichigo snorted. "The midget said something about me, didn't she?"

Pulling away, Orihime gave him a disapproving frown. "Don't call her like that, Ichigo-kun. She's your friend." Ichigo put his arms around her hips and leaned forward, his mouth near her ear.

"So you're on her side now?"

Orihime lifted her chin in soft defiance. "Only because you're being mean."

He hauled her against his body, making her squeak, their bodies pressed fully against each other. His eyes seemed to spark as he regarded her with a small, lazy smile.

Instinctively her body arched closer to his male hardness when his hand slowly traced her spine.

"You're supposed to stick to me. Through thick and thin, remember?"

She was burning inside now, as if her blood were throbbing with fever. She gripped his sleeves in her trembling fingers. Then she remembered what she was, what her mission was. That she cannot allow her feelings to overwhelm her.

Orihime swallowed, lifted her eyes, saw the way he was looking at her and looked away quickly. "T-Then y-you shouldn't call her like that," she whispered, her voice coming out as strangled. She wet her lips, her blush deepening as she felt his gaze follow the movement of her tongue.

"What happened while I was gone and made you her number one defender?" His breath touched her cheek, and a tremor slithered down her spine and between her thighs, making them quiver. "Next time, I won't let you go to parties alone," Ichigo added, only half teasing.

Orihime smiled, lifting her gaze. Their eyes met with staggering impact, and they stared at each other for a long time without speaking.

"I need something to drink." Ichigo finally said, sounding gruff. He squeezed her, hard enough to make her bite her lip to stifle her moan.

"Keep the jacket," he grumbled when he let her go and she attempted to remove it. "You're showing too much skin…"

"But Ichigo-kun, it'll look weird if I wear your jacket. It doesn't match my dress."

Still frowning, he watched her slide the jacket off her shoulders. His eyes lingered on her throat and collar. "Um, I-Ichigo-kun?" Orihime murmured uncertainly. Suddenly, she wanted to keep the jacket. The way he looked at her made her feel like she was naked.

He lifted his eyes to her face and smiled. Orihime blinked. Was it hunger and desperation she saw in his eyes? That was not a normal smile; it was feral, predatory, reminding her of a skulking beast ready to pounce.

"Shall we?" he asked, offering his elbow.

"I…" She swallowed, dropped her eyes and nodded.

* * *

><p><strong>notes.<strong>

um… /fidgets. this is very late, i will spare you all the story of why but thank you for still reading me! anyways,

this is the most difficult chapter ever! my brain writhed and melted – metaphorically! ahaha – from the stress, and then i conquered my obsession with using present tense and viola! it certainly made life easier! 8D i hope it is ok tho!

thank you very much for all your reviews; i enjoyed reading them and they are all precious to me, thank you for spending your time on my (obsessive fangirling) work!


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